I pout. “Well that sucks. I wish you could experience some of this deliciousness.” My eyes sparkle and the corners of my mouth curve as I take another generous lick.
He stares and shakes his head slowly, as if he knows what I’m about to do even before I do it.
Maybe it’s the natural flirt in me. Or it’s because I’m a little turned on, thinking about his big hands and all the colorful tattoos inked over his body. Or it could be the blazing heat from the Florence sun, turning me into a raging inferno of lust knowing he’s interested in me, as evidenced by the generous bulge in his pants.
Whatever it is that spurs me on, I can’t help myself when I lean up onto my tiptoes, throw one arm around his neck and bring my lips to touch his.
He remains stock still, like an enormous mannequin, his arms nailed to his sides, resistant to my kiss. I pull back an inch and peek up through my lashes, finding his eyes shut tight, as if this was a painful proposition. And just when I’m about to say fuck it and walk away, his arm snakes around my waist and he yanks me back into him, covering my mouth with his. Hard.
Oh yes. Everything is hard.
His mouth relaxes and opens for me completely.Gavin’s lips are perfect – warm and full, melding with mine to create sensations that zing down to my toes.
He opens his mouth further, and I use the opportunity it provides for my tongue to lap at his, swirling and sweeping them together so he experiences the flavorful combination that bursts inside my mouth. My tongue is so cold but is instantly warmed with his heat.
The kiss is over much too soon when Gavin grunts and jerks away from me, his gigantic hands gently pushing at my shoulders to make room between us. You’d think he just realized he was kissing his grandmother by the way he puts an end to our connection.
Gavin’s eyes open and lockwithmine. He appears both reluctant, yet ready for more. Based on the confusion written on his face, he’s trying to make sense of this. To put it in some sort of box or paint by numbers picture, where the image becomes clearer once you’ve stepped back to get a good look at it.
Gavin speaks first. “Shit,” he mutters, his stance rigid and ready to bolt. “Kady, this isn’t a good idea.”
I stare at him blankly. I can’t even make a joke at his expense because I’m stunned.
Is this rejection? If it is, this is a foreign concept to me because it’s never happened before. His reaction to our very hot kiss is confusing and not what I expected. You’d think I’d made a blood offering to marry the guy, for fuck’s sake.
It was just a kiss. I’ve kissed lots of guys. Even another girl and I’ve liked them all. Kissing is just an extension of emotion. It doesn’t have to mean anything deep or symbolic. It’s not a vow of eternity. It’s simply two people sharing something natural and beautiful.
The kiss with Gavin, though, extends beyond that definition. Initially, I was just being playful and I wanted him to taste the gelato. I wanted to share the flavor and the cold sensation on my tongue.
But now I’m left reeling, my toes still tingling and my body vibrating with excitement from his kiss. Now that he’s put a stop to things, I want more. I can’t help it. It’s like an open bag of chips. You can’t just open it up and eat just one.
Now that I know what Gavin’s kisses can do to me, I want it all.
While I may have instigated the kiss, Gavin’s participation only amplified that desire. And now I have firsthand knowledge that Gavin Lancaster is an extremely good kisser.
I’m still rattled by his kiss when I ask for further explanation.
“What exactly isn’t a good idea, Gavin? The gelato or me?”
He glances away nervously, dropping his arms to his side, two of his fingers anxiously tapping against his leg.
“You know…getting involved. Hooking up.”
I snort out a laugh. “Really, dude? You think because I kissed you that it automatically insinuates I want to hookup? Jesus, Gavin. I was only giving you ataste…of the gelato.”
His eyes narrow, but won’t meet mine now, as he shuffles forward toward the canopied vendor booths lining the courtyard. There are rows and rows of various merchant tents. Some scarves, a lot of purses, bags and other touristy kitschy souvenirs – all colorful and eye-catching. I stalk behind him, stopping to check out a table of silver chains and artful necklaces.
My back is to him when I feel him step behind me – so close I can feel his breath against my neck - and I turn to stare up into his soulful brown eyes. He wears the cutest smile I’ve ever seen on a man, one brow cocked playfully.
“It was good,”he whispers, his hands shoved deep into his shorts pockets.
I return his smile before turning and heading off to the next vendor table.
Yeah, it sure was.
****
We spend the next few hours bumming around the area, walking for what seemed like miles and miles until the bottoms of my feet throb like a bitch and we finally stop at a pub for an afternoon refreshment.
