I’d rehearsed our first kiss in my head a few times. Fine. More than a few. Regardless, it was always intense—too much, too fast. She’d be calm and collected, drinking the moment in, taking her time. While I’d fumble with my hands, putting them in the wrong place, unable to find the rhythm of our mouths moving together. Usually, the daydream ended with me hyperventilating until I passed out on the floor.
But kissing Juliette Serrant for real?
Was the easiest thing I’d ever done.
Like my breath was Valium, she melted into me until our bodies were one, not a speck of air between us. Our arms snaked around each other, mine around her waist, hers around my neck. Electricity seared through my gut, my chest, down my thighs. Hormones pulsed through me, empowering and heady—and if I’d ever known anything for sure, I knew I was born for this moment. To love her and be loved by her.
When her tongue slid against mine—soft and slick—myknees finally did what they’d been threatening to do for the last twenty-four hours. I fell back, letting the wall catch me, moaning, hoping she’d accept my meager apology for not being a stronger man. She smiled against my mouth and deepened the kiss, her leg wrapping around my right calf as if to help hold me up.
I tried not to think about how surreal this was. Absurd. Borderline unbelievable. Juliette Serrant was kissing me.Me. Griffin Dupree. Regular guy. Absolute mess.Andwe’d already talked about getting married.
I didn’t deserve her. One day, she’d realize she was way too good for me. Hopefully not for ten or fifteen years, after we had a houseful of babies, and our lives were so intertwined she wouldn’t want it any other way. But yeah, one day.
Her index finger slipped under the band of my board shorts, running along my abs, and I had nothing left to give. A groan rumbled in my chest, and I took her with me as I slid down the wall.
I pulled her into my lap, where she nuzzled my nose, making happy murmuring sounds. “Griff?”
I dropped another kiss on her lips. “Yeah?”
“I need an update.” She pressed her lips over the hinge of my jaw. “Are you still…” Two kisses on my throat. “Clinging to…” Two more on the other side. “That last…” She nibbled on my ear. “Percent?”
“Long gone. Negative five,” I whimpered, my fingers digging into her ribs. “And dropping. If you keep this up, I will be having a cardiac event.”
“Well, then.” She laughed and laid her head on my shoulder. “We definitely wouldn’t want that.”
We sat there for at least thirty seconds, coming down from the kiss. But I was still in a shower with Juliette Serrant in my lap, so…
She sat up and faced me, her expression so serious. “I don’tknow how to do this your way, but I want to. I want to be good like you.” Her thumb brushed over my stubble. “Because I feel peaceful when I’m with you. Likereallypeaceful. And I want to be that for you too.”
“You already are.” My fingers trailed down her back. “And don’t worry. We’ll figure it out together.”
Her smile was soft. “I’d like that.”
She came in for another kiss, but I caught her face in my hands. “So if we’re trying to be good, we probably shouldn’t be making out in this shower. Even with our swimsuits on.”
“Okay,” she said, but her expression fell, and her nose crinkled. “Why?”
I brushed a soaked lock of hair from her forehead. “To begin with? I’m having a very hard time keeping my thoughts appropriate, and I want to respect you. My wife deserves to be respected.”
“My wife.” She bit her bottom lip and blushed. “I like the sound of that. I want to respect you too. Sorry to be a temptation.”
My fingers traced along her spine. “You are a temptation. It’s shameful how attracted I am to you. But that’s only part of the why. The other part is that I have no idea what we’re telling our kids when they ask, ‘Mom and Dad, how’d you meet?’” I said like I was six. “Uh…” I stammered, making my voice extra deep. “Well, son, we met…in a bar.”
She winced but laughed, light and carefree. “I can see how that might be problematic.”
I kissed the tip of her nose. “And then when he asks, ‘Where’d you kiss Mom for the first time?’ I’ll have to say, ‘Well, Timmy?—’”
“Oh, definitely not. Weston?” she asked, pleading. “Can we name our first boy that, please?”
How could I deny her? If she kept lookingat me like that, she’d probably name all the kids. Pets too. Even the houseplants.
I placed a kiss between her brows. “‘Well, Weston,’ I’ll say…” I smiled when she sighed. “‘Our first kiss was a steamy makeout in a steamy shower.’”
She laughed, cheeks red, dropping her forehead back to my shoulder.
I took the opportunity to press a kiss along her collarbone. “We need to set ourselves up for success?” Another kiss. “Start thinking long-term.” And another.
She grabbed my face and widened her eyes. “Behave. For Weston’s sake.” She poked me in the abs. “Or else.”
