Page 50 of Slick Trip

Kissing

COOPER

Holy shit, I was kissing Jon, and it was better than in my dreams. That was saying a lot, because there had been a great number of dreams. Frequent, various, sweet, hot, and occasionally very wet dreams. Ever since I was fifteen.

So yes, I had thought about this a lot. With a level of dedication that should probably qualify as a hobby. My favorite way to fall asleep had been imagining the moment Jon finally gave in. When he would see me and admit what this was—that it wasn’t just in my head, that he felt it too. Wanted me too.

Then that happened, and I had liked it too much and got all ashamed and confused.

But now we were kissing, and it was better than perfect. My brain shut off. I had no thoughts. No snark. No need to poke Jon until he snapped. All I had was the wonderful, crushing pressure of Jon’s mouth on mine. I could tell he was holding back, and I was already hanging on for dear life.

I didn’t know kissing could feel this good. I wasn’t prepared. I made a small, high-pitched noise in the back of my throat we were never going to talk about. Jon stilled for half a second—long enough for me to worry he was going to stop—but then his mouth pressed harder, his tongue dominating mine until I was out of breath and trembling.

I should’ve known he’d be good at this. My fingers dug into the hard muscle of his shoulders while his hand pressed more firmly against my back, his large palm holding me steady. And then, oh my God. I felt it. He was hard. Thick and demanding against my thigh.

I let out an excited little yelp. Did that mean I was good at this too? My brain was back on and whirring—

“Stop overthinking,” he murmured against my lips, like he knew exactly where I’d gone.

I pulled back just enough to breathe. Jon was watching me intensely. He didn’t look at me like I was bratty Cooper or Jack’s annoying little brother.

He looked at me like I was his equal. Like I belonged with him.

To him.

I leaned against him with a soft little whimper, my body seeking the safety of his chest.

“Oh,” I said faintly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep,” I said, trying to cover my flustered state. “You being a perfect kisser is totally fine. I’m handling this extremely well.”

“Really? And here I was thinking you look like a deer caught in headlights.”

His teasing made me squirm. Oh, God, if Jon was going to be all soft and gentle with me, I’d die. It would be a happy death, but still.

I peered at him, then quickly licked his lower lip—just a tiny, daring swipe with my tongue to make sure he still tasted like the best thing I’d ever had. Jon half groaned, half growled, and then he crushed his lips to mine again, kissing me until I ran out of breath.

“You didn’t warn me,” I whispered when he let me go. “You didn’t say, FYI, kissing me will ruin you for life. Now I don’t want to kiss other people, and that’s on you.”

Jon’s hand tightened on my waist. “Is there someone else you’ve wanted to kiss?”

I almost wished there was, just to see how deliciously he’d flip, but it had always been Jon for me.

I shook my head.

“Good,” he said, his voice thick with possessive authority that turned me into mush. “You’re mine,” he added, sounding very matter-of-fact. My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Did he just . . . claim me? Shouldn’t there be a protocol or something?

I pinched his arm.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Is this a dream?” I demanded.

“No.” He took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine. I looked at our joined hands, at the faded scars crisscrossing his knuckles. He once said he didn’t know how to touch softly, but he was wrong. So wrong.

“What does this mean?” I wanted him to spell it out for me.