Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
He means Katie, and I think he might be right. Tonight’s my first time meeting her, but within five seconds of being introduced, I concluded that she’s a bossy little firecracker. Don’t get me wrong, she’s fun. But I feel like if you’re friends with Katie, she always has the final say about everything.
“Fine,” I murmur back. “No tongue.”
I see the merest hint of a smile. “No promises.”
I barely have time to process the unexpected teasing remark before Fitz cups my chin with one big hand. I vaguely register a loud whistle—I think it comes from Hollis. And then it gets drowned out by my pounding heartbeat as Fitz’s lips gently touch mine.
Oh.
Oh wow.
I didn’t expect him to start off so tender. In front of everyone. But he does. His thumb sweeps over my cheek as his mouth moves ever so slowly over mine. He’s got the softest lips I’ve ever felt, and he uses them with confidence. I shiver when he increases the pressure, sealing his lips tight to mine. And then the tip of his tongue slicks over my bottom lip, and I jolt as if I stuck my finger in a live socket.
The moment our tongues touch, I’m gone. A low hum of desire buzzes between my legs, crackling up to my breasts and hardening my nipples. I completely surrender to his kiss. I let his tongue sweep into my mouth. I let his fingers dig possessively into my waist, his warm breath to heat my mouth, his sexy scent to infuse my senses.
I can’t stop myself—I press one hand to his rock-hard chest. The other, I curl around the nape of his neck. The baby-fine hairs there tickle my palm. His left pec quivers beneath my palm, and I can feel his heartbeat. It’s hammering as fast as mine.
When I feel him start to pull away, a frantic, helpless sensation surges through me. I tighten my grip on his neck and kiss him harder. My tongue tangles with his, and I swallow the husky sound he makes. I hope nobody else heard it.
Because that beautiful desperate sound belongs to me. It’s all mine. I want to memorize the seductive resonance and replay it over and over again later, when I’m lying alone in bed, when my hand slides between my legs as I touch myself to the memory of this kiss.
Oh fuck. I’m so turned on. My legs are shaking. My panties are soaked.
I force myself to wrench our mouths apart. What takes even more willpower is not looking at him. I’m terrified of what his expression will show me, so I avoid it by glancing over my shoulder at our audience.
But I feel it. Like a molten-hot brand scorching the center of my spine.
I pray to God that our friends can’t see through the careless mask I quickly arrange on my face. “There,” I chirp, my smile overly bright and my voice way too cheery. “We kissed and made up. Whose turn is it now?”
Here’s the thing about kissing. Some kisses are a prelude to sex. Some happen out of boredom. Some make your body tingle, others might leave you feeling nothing at all. But what all those kisses have in common? They’re just kisses.
They’re not THE KISS.
The one that lingers in your mind for hours, even days, after it’s over. The one that has you randomly touching your lips and breaking out in a warm, fluttery shiver as you remember the feel of his mouth on you.
And it doesn’t have to be some epic production, either. It doesn’t need to take place in front of the Eiffel Tower at sunset with majestic horses in the background and the aurora borealis shimmering up above (making a miraculous appearance in Paris).
The last time I experienced THE KISS, it happened behind a bale of hay at my friend Eliza’s ranch in Kentucky. I was sixteen and in love with her older brother Glenn, but he’d been dating the same girl for ages. That summer, when I tagged along with him and Eliza to visit their grandmother’s ranch, he and his girlfriend finally (finally!) broke up. And Glenn finally (finally!) noticed me.
He kissed me to the sound of horses snorting and the smell of manure. It was clumsy and furtive, and yet it was a kiss I never forgot. We went back to Connecticut and dated for seven months. I lost my virginity to him and thought we’d get married and have babies, but then his ex-girlfriend decided she wanted him back and now they’re married and have babies.
Good for Glenn. I don’t think I would’ve been happy with him in the long run. Me living on a ranch in the middle of nowhere? Hard pass.
I hadn’t experienced another kiss like that since him, though. Until yesterday.
Fitz gave me THE KISS. It lasted less than a minute, occurred in front of a dozen people during a juvenile game of Spin the Bottle, and yet? It has consumed my mind from the second I went to bed last night to the moment I opened my eyes this morning. I undoubtedly dreamed about it, too, though I can’t remember.