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I can’t make a sound.
All I can do is look up at him. Andthink.
What I thought so long ago.
That he’s sexy and beautiful.
Symmetrical.
One sharp feature giving way to another. Proud cheekbones hollowing out and slanting down to a stubbled jaw. Smooth forehead and arrogant brows sculpted down to thickly lashed eyes. His straight nose off setting his wide mouth.
His mouth.
Smooth and curved and gosh, looking like the softest pillow.
And I don’t know how it happens. I don’t know who makes the first move but I’m pressing against that plush pillow.
My mouth is pressing against his mouth.
And I’m…
I’m devouring them, his lips. I’m swallowing them.
Or maybe it’s him who’s doing that. He’s devouring me, my lips, swallowing them with his own.
No, wait.
I think it’s both of us.
We’re both doing the devouring and swallowing.
And holy God, I don’t understand how that happened. I don’t understand how we came to this.
To me pressed up against the bedpost and him pressed up against me.
As we kiss each other.
As he kisses me and I kiss him back.
And not just with our mouths either. We’re kissing each other with our whole bodies.
We’re tangled up in each other.
Somehow his hands are in my hair, fisting it, pulling at it, messing up my braid. Like this is the very first thing that he wanted to do as soon as he got his hands on me. And my own fingers are on his shoulders, his biceps, scratching his skin, pulling at his t-shirt. Like that is whatIwanted to do.
Feel the thickness of those arms and rake my nails on his skin because he makes me so mad.
And apparently, I also wanted to suck on his tongue.
Because I had a feeling that it was going to be tasty.
His tongue was going to be sweet and delicious and so heated.
And gosh, it is.
It’s like sucking on summer.
It’s like sucking on sunshine and watermelon and lemonade.
