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Put your hand back where it belongs.
HE TURNS OFF THE MAIN ROAD
Onto a narrow strip of potholed
pavement. It leads to a small parking
area. River access, and this time
of year, there’s no one else here.
My heart beats against my chest
like eagle wings against heavy air.
Kyle throws the shifter into park,
pushes me over enough to slide
out from beneath the steering
wheel. In almost the same motion,
he yanks me into his lap and our
lips weld together. Heated. Urgent.
This is not a kiss of friendship.
This is a kiss born of lust, and I have
never known anything like it.
This is unstoppable, no holds
barred. This is beautiful.
Crazy. A beginning. Betrayal.
Addictive. Aggressive. Alive.
This is something to be afraid of.
I AM CERTAIN OF THAT
Yet even as my brain cries, “Slow down,”
my body insists, “Give me more.” Kyle’s
hands move over me and his touch
is nothing like Matt’s clumsy
investigation. Somehow, these
hands have intimate knowledge
of the heights and depths of my body.
