lips met, that moment ended all too soon. Still, as far as first kisses went, this one was top of the list. And I barely knew this guy. Maybe that was the appeal, after all. Maybe knowing too much about a guy was the deal-breaker for me.
I pulled away, my legs trembling, and opened my eyes to meet his surprised ones. His mouth was still in a pout from the kiss, and his eyes were all soft and smoky, like he was peering through darkness to see me. Like he had the power to. As if we’d met just like this a thousand times, and he intimately knew the language of seeing me. Truly seeing me. If I stared into the blue depths of his irises long enough, I just might believe that we’d met so many times. I never thought blue eyes could be warm until I looked into his.
My lips tingled from where they’d brushed against his stubble, a sensation I decided I liked very much. I resisted the urge to rub my hand over them, to see if that feeling could transfer to my fingertips, to let it spread like the wildfire that begged to unfurl across my skin.
It had only been maybe a handful of seconds since I’d pulled away, but the tension between us was thick like it’d been building for hours, rising and expanding in the little distance that separated us. Slowly, I slid my hand down his face, marveling in the sharp line of his jaw, and took a step back, giving me a chance to breathe in air that didn’t smell or taste like him.
All the while, he just studied me.
It was unsettling.
It was sexy.
It was a mistake.
Right? The fact that he wasn’t saying anything made me think there was some kind of problem. Maybe I’d crossed the line. He hadn’t worn a wedding ring—I’d checked. He didn’t look mad, but he looked intense in a way that made me squirm, a way that would unsettle even the most settled of souls.
“So, there’s that,” I said with a note of finality.
“There’s that,” he finally replied, his voice husky and dark like his eyes.
Why wasn’t he saying anything else? It perplexed me that he continued to stare with such intensity. Maybe I was intimidated? Is this what it felt like? When the sexual tension was so powerful you had to remind yourself to breathe, that life—however implausibly—existed outside of the bubble you were currently occupying?
Shit-balls, this was more than I had bargained for when I’d agreed to this stupid dare.
I was about to return to the others when he stepped forward, bringing us chest to chest. My heart pattered, and I felt that surprised quick intake of air hiss through my lips as his arm slid around my back. His head descended and with his lips softly resting against mine, he uttered “My turn,” into my mouth before he claimed me as his in a way that was not nearly as gentle as those two words had been delivered.
Shit. If I thought that barely more-than-a-peck was something special, then this was fucking momentous. I needed to hold on to him, to make this last longer, so my arms slid around his neck and he leaned over me, his fingers tangling in my hair behind my back. He tugged lightly, causing me to release the softest moan into his mouth as his tongue grazed the seam of my lips, inviting himself in before I could say no. Not that I would have, holy Hannah.
This was what being kissed felt like. Not receiving a kiss as a noun but receiving it as a proper fucking verb. There was most definitely action to this kiss, an intention that made me lose my head and want to ride the feeling as long as I possibly could.
I angled my head so he could kiss me deeper, but instead he just teased my lip with his teeth, twirled my hair in his fingers, and rubbed a thumb up and down my spine before he let go.
“Whoa,” I said when I caught my breath. He still held me with one hand behind my back, as if he was afraid I’d fall. To be honest, I wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t collapse at his feet. My legs were like unsteady toothpicks just then, as if he’d liquified all the muscles in my body. Warmth spread from my head all the way to my toes and I couldn’t blame it on the