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The brief and teasing sensation of his lips touching hers filled her with an entirely new thrill. She’d waited her entire life for this, and despite all she knew, or thought she knew, she had to make the most of it.
Their lips brushed against one another’s, several times, in tiny light kisses that didn’t last long enough for her to react. Unable to stand the teasing, she grasped his face with both hands and caught his lips with hers.
Having hosted a kissing booth, Twyla knew a lot about kissing. Not that she wanted to remember it all. As a matter of fact, she’d recently told Norma Rose she’d rather vomit in her mouth than kiss some of the men she’d kissed again.
That certainly was not the case with Forrest. His lips were warm and moist and heavenly sweet, and they fit against hers with such perfection she stretched onto her tiptoes to increase the pressure.
The kiss was like a dream she never wanted to wake up from, until her mind tried to turn it into a nightmare by pointing out this was Forrest she was kissing. The one man she could never love. He’d broken her heart. He’d flipped her entire world upside down, and there was nothing to say he wouldn’t do that again. That he wouldn’t just up and vanish some night without a word to anyone.
She’d grown up since he’d disappeared the first time, and this time around she was too smart to be fooled. Forrest was attempting to rekindle their childhood, when they’d been friends, not enemies. Taking her flying, kissing her—he was trying to manipulate her onto his side. She just didn’t know why, but she soon would.
Two could play at his game.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and slanted her face, so her lips gave room for her tongue to teasingly lick the seam between his lips, enticing them to part. They did, but just as she thought she’d gained the upper hand, his tongue snagged hers in a wrestling match that had her gasping for air.
Not about to give in, she held on tighter and met each swirl, each taste, with one just as bold and hot as his. They were once again in competition, a game of cat and mouse that went deeper than ever before, and Twyla found herself fighting internal sensations that could very well flip things around and make her the mouse instead of the cat.
Elation flared when Forrest was the one to break the kiss, breathing heavily. However, as the elation of knowing she’d won rose, so did something else. The look in his eyes held an odd bewilderment, and she knew what it was. He was questioning where she’d learned to kiss like that.
Once again Twyla found herself in the midst of an internal battle. This time against a rush of shame. There was nothing to be ashamed of. It was the 1920s. Women could kiss men all they wanted. After all, as she’d said more than once, men were like shoes and a woman had to try on several pairs before she found the one that fit perfectly. Comfortably.
Right now, though, she didn’t believe her own sayings quite as strongly as she had in the past, especially when Forrest turned around, without saying a word, and started walking back toward the building.
Her heart was still hammering in her chest, and her breathing was not as controlled as she’d like, so Twyla turned about to give herself a moment to gain control before she spoke. Her gaze landed on the plane, and the adventure she’d just experienced rejuvenated her. Oh, yes, two could play at this game Forrest had challenged her to, and there was nothing that said she couldn’t have the time of her life while playing. After all, that was what she was all about. Having the time of her life, and making sure Forrest didn’t disrupt that again, remained her goal.
After tugging the goggles off her head, and unfastening and removing the hat, Twyla spun around. “So how do we get this plane back in that shed?”
Forrest had removed his goggles, hat and flight jacket. They were lying on the ground near the back of the plane, but he seemed to have disappeared.
Yelling toward the shadows inside the building, she repeated, “How do we get this plane back in there?”
Forrest appeared in the doorway. “We push it.”
Attempting to act as nonchalant as he, she unzipped the jacket he’d loaned her. “Push it?”
“Yep. Push it.”
Creating a pile next to his, she removed the jacket and then slid the suspenders holding up the pants off her shoulders. Once the pants were on the ground, she smoothed her skirt, admitting to herself that she was thankful the material hadn’t wrinkled. After readjusting her scarf, she rubbed her hands together. “All right, then, let’s get to pushing.”
“Not so quick,” Forrest said. “I have a postflight inspection to do first.”
“You inspected everything before we left,” she pointed out.
