Page 37 of Small Town Boy

I gesture for her to lead the way, even though I know the route to her cottage from here like the back of my hand. I’ve made this trek—both on foot and by car—many times over the years since Sylvie bought the place. Letting her lead allows me a nice view of her perfect ass for a brief moment though, and I’m not about to turn that down.

Passing through the town square, I take her hand, pointing out all the little things that make our town special. The monument, carved with all the names of fallen Civil War soldiers, the library which was originally built in the early 1900s and then renovated in the 1950s and 1980s, and then, much to Kenzie’s annoyance, not updated since. Hickory Hills Baptist right next door, which was built with an arsenal in the basement, that actually housed weapons until much more recently than one would think.

“It took almost twenty years and four town votes to finally disband it,” I tell her, swinging our conjoined hands. Walking like this, hand in hand on a sunny Saturday afternoon, feels like the most normal thing in the world. Like what I should be doing every Saturday. That, and leaning in to steal a kiss. “They finally converted it into a bride’s room about ten years ago.”

“If that’s not the most southern small-town thing I have ever heard,” she laughs. “I mean, you can’t make that kind of thing up, can you?”

“Probably not.”

“I came here trying to keep an open mind and not give in to preconceived notions,” she says, stopping at her front door. She turns to face me, bright smile on her face. “But you guys are making it kinda hard.”

You’re making me kinda hard…

Fuck, I did not just think that. So much for being a mature adult here. Turns out, the teenage boy in me might still be alive and well.

“And now you’re trying not to dwell on the fact that I just went and said making it hard.”

Busted.

“Am not.”

“I can see it in your face. But don’t worry,” she said, lowering her voice. “I am too.”

I step into her, taking her shopping bag out of her hand and setting it on the stoop. Placing my hand on her hip, I squeeze gently. Her breath catches right at the same time my heart skips a beat. Electricity snaps between us, pulling me to her like a moth to a flame.

“That would be ungentlemanly of me,” I whisper, locking my eyes with hers.

“I still don’t fully understand what you mean when you say that.”

“My being a gentleman? It means I’m the same guy on Sunday morning that I am on Saturday night.”

“What about Saturday morning?”

She licks her lips, leaning into me. There’s maybe an inch of space between us, our bodies all but touching, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

“Then too.”

I’m dying to kiss her. To know what her mouth tastes like. All I need is an indication that she wants it too.

“Good to know.”

Neither of us moves. Frozen in place, barely breathing, waiting on the other to do something. Say something. I can feel the world spinning around us. One great big blur. None of that matters though, because I’m too busy getting lost in these honey-colored eyes. And I’m going to stay here as long as she lets me.

Then, it happens.

Bronwyn sways into me. It’s a millimeter of movement, yet enough to tell me she’s on the same page I am. It’s time to make my move.

I place my free hand under her chin, tilting it up, and lean in. Our lips meet—softly, gently, tentatively. Both of us testing the waters. That hesitation disappears in an instant, as a live wire snaps inside me, igniting me.

I kiss her harder, deeper, while still keeping it tender. Her supple lips sweep across mine, driving me crazy. She tastes just as sweet as I imagined—no, sweeter. As sweet as a peach straight off the tree in July. As decadent as anything I’ve ever experienced. My whole body is standing at attention, electricity flowing through my veins, wanting more. Wanting her.

Bronwyn whimpers into the kiss, pushing to her toes, trying to deepen it even more. Our tongues meet, and sparks fly all over again. Her hands wind into my shirt, and I know we’re putting on a show. Anyone who walks down the street could see us, making us the talk of the town.

But I don’t give a damn.

Because this is, without a doubt, the best kiss of my life.

A long moment later, Bronwyn pulls away, eyes still closed, lips puffy. She heaves out a heavy breath, eyelids fluttering open. Our gazes meet, and the fireworks that were exploding inside me start all over again.