Something was stirring in him, though; a bud of comprehension that could very well bloom into forgiveness if left unchecked.
But she bravely kept her eyes open; she was both lost and found in the soft, burning depths of his eyes.
He wished for access to all the world's languages at once, for then he would have a better word for how he felt and what she was.
Her laugh was wonderful. It was mischief made musical.
And this is the potency a first kiss should have: it should be earned. The moments leading up to it should be as tense as a crossbow drawn back. The reader should want it as badly as the hero and hero...