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Eight
What. Was. Happening?
A useless question since the answer was as plain as the tip of Flynn’s nose on her face, because Flynn Parker was kissing her.
Her eyes were open in shock and she was using every one of her senses to rationalize this moment. But she couldn’t. There was absolutely no way to sort out why his lips were on hers.
Time slowed.
She’d never imagined what his mouth would taste like, but now she knew. It was firm and sure with a hint of sweetness from the blueberry cheese they’d sampled. His kiss was delicious and confident. He held her as her knees softened and her eyelids slid shut. Sight lost, her body was a mangle of sensations as she became aware of every part of her touching every part of him.
His hand in her hair. His other hand on her hip beneath her coat, squeezing as he pulled her in tighter. The feel of his always-there scruff scraping her jaw. The low groan in his throat that reverberated in her belly and lower still...
She jerked her head back to separate their mouths, her eyes flying open. His mouth was still pursed, his lips shimmering a little from the gloss she’d transferred to them. She witnessed his every microexpression as it happened. His eyebrows ticked in the center, his mouth relaxed, and his eyes followed the hand that slid down her hair as he played with the strands between his fingers.
She opened her mouth to say something—to say anything—but no words came. Just an ineffectual breath of surprise. Unable to speak, or reason, or tame her now-overexcited female hormones, she waited for him to speak.
When he did she was more confused than ever.
“I don’t want to go to the trapeze thing,” he said.
“Oh-kay.”
“What was between cheese and the trapeze?”
A slightly hysterical giggle burst from her. A release valve—not only was “cheese” and “trapeze” funny in the same sentence but Flynn grabbing her up and kissing the sense out of her was ridiculous.
Omigosh. I kissed Flynn Parker.
She touched her lips, reliving what seconds ago had her rising to her tiptoes—the kiss. A really great kiss.
“Shopping,” she croaked when she was finally able to utter a coherent word.
“For what?”
“For...whatever.” She shrugged, feeling awkward that they weren’t talking about The Kiss. Feeling more awkward about standing here not bringing it up. “Um, Flynn?”
“I know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and while he collected himself she used the moment to check him out. Brown leather jacket, worn jeans, brown lace-up boots. He looked sturdy and capable and...now that she thought about it, pretty damn kissable, too. It was as if every subtle nuance she’d noticed about him over the last week had come into sharp focus. Flynn was still her best friend, but he was also freaking hot.
“What...was that?” she ventured, feeling like she should ask and that she shouldn’t at the same time.
He raised an arm and dropped it helplessly, but no explanation came.
Tentatively, she touched his chest. This time when their eyes met a sizzle electrocuted the scant bit of air separating them.
“Let me guess. You’re going to suggest we don’t do that again,” he murmured.
She became vaguely aware of the couples walking by, but since it was Valentine’s Day none of them stopped to gawk at a man and woman standing in the center of the pier kissing.
“Why? Was it bad?” Her voice was accidentally sultry and airy. She wasn’t trying to impress or woo him. It just sort of...happened. Maybe it was nerves.
“It wasn’t bad for me.” A muscle in his jaw twitched as he watched her mouth. Those blue eyes froze her in place when he demanded, “Why’d you ask? Was it bad for you?”
“It was different.” That wasn’t the best word for it, but it was the safest. “Not bad.”
“Not bad. Okay.” He raised his eyebrows and with them his voice. “Where do you want to shop?”
“We’re just going to...”
