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His eyes become hooded as they attach to my mouth. My tongue slips out, running across my bottom lip, and he inhales deeply through his nose as his fingertips press harder into my back.
Five!
All around us people have started jumping and cheering, but we’re standing still in the middle of the room, and staring at each other with a mixture of trepidation and want so powerful I feel like it’s about to swallow me whole.
“Four!” the crowd shouts at the same moment I see him whisper my name, almost like a question and almost like a prayer. I think he’s going to kiss me, I really do, and a thousand butterflies take flight.
Three!
I push up on my toes to try to get closer to him as his head bends down. My arms loop around his neck, and I cling to him, thanking every star in the night sky that I’m being given this moment.
Two!
I can see the wariness and the struggle on his face. He wants to kiss me badly, but he’s not sure what this means. I’ll tell you what this means . . . to me it means everything.
One!
Happy New Year!
It’s like the clock is a match and those words are the kindling. They no sooner echo throughout the room than the match strikes and everything around us explodes. Confetti is blown in the air, “Auld Lang Syne” is being played, and people around us are kissing and laughing.
Justin’s words from a few years ago echo through my mind, “Kiss someone and pretend it’s me.” I hate that I’m thinking of him at this moment, but his rationale for that statement was so, so wrong. He never should have wanted someone else to kiss me, that’s not okay, and truth is, if Clay kisses me, there’s no way I’ll ever be able to pretend it’s someone else.
Leaning down, he rests his forehead against mine and takes a few deep breaths. The electricity between us snaps and crackles as the scent of whiskey brushes against me. There’s a pounding need in my veins, but I can’t be the one to initiate this; it has to be him. Very slowly, his large hands slide up my back, over my arms, and gently wrap around my face with his fingers tangling in my hair.
“Fuck me,” he whispers to himself with his eyes closed as the last bit of his self-control leaves him and his lips slide across my face and land on mine. Flames race down my spine at the contact. He’s so tentative with this kiss, but his entire body is vibrating with a need for it. I lean into him a little more, my chest pushing up against his and erasing any distance left between us.His lips part and his teeth catch on my bottom lip as he sucks it into his mouth.
And I’m dead.I’ve died and gone to kiss heaven.
Clay lets out a sigh, tilts my head just a little, and sinks his tongue into my mouth. His taste fills me like the warmth of the sun on a late spring day as I distinctly remember the flavor of him. My arms tighten around him as a soft noise leaves me and I fall into the delicious feel of him, into this exquisite kiss, a kiss I never want to end. I know he intended this to be a simple midnight kiss, but it’s so much more than that, at least it is to me, and I can’t help it. I need this kiss from him like I need air to breathe, and I want him to kiss me until neither one of us can remember any kiss that came before it.
Lights flash behind my eyes, people repeatedly bump into us, and I’m certain someone somewhere is filming us, but I don’t care. Not at all. Every bit of it fades away as I’m spellbound and so focused on him. The world could be ending and I wouldn’t know it. Over and over he kisses me, reacquainting himself with every curve and line of my mouth as his tongue rubs and swirls around mine.
No one has ever kissed me like Clay.
Needing air, I gasp, and his mouth latches onto my neck. One hand leaves my head, grabs my ponytail, runs down the length of it then over my back, and slips underneath the bottom of my shirt. His fingers are warm as they drift across my skin and cover the expanse of my back. He finds a belt loop on the back of my jeans and pulls me up tightly.
Oh my word.
I fit perfectly against him. I always have. Where he’s hard, I’m soft, and at this moment I have to force myself to not think about other parts of him that are hard and pushing into me. Instead I pull his mouth back to mine to continue the best kiss I have ever had.
“Emma,” he whispers.
All I can answer with is “I know.” And I do. This pull between us, the chemistry, it’s so strong and perilous considering the current unstable ground of our relationship, but neither one of us concedes. We keep kissing until some of the background noise finally filters its way in and we’re reminded that we’re standing in the middle of the bar. He slows, inhaling air like he hasn’t for days, and I instantly miss the warmth of his lips on my skin as his forehead returns to mine.
As I lower myself down on my heels, he loosens his hold. I know I should be locking away my feelings and my words, but I just can’t. I cling to him because I need to say them, he needs to know, and once he does, maybe I’ll be lucky and one day he’ll do it some more.
Tilting my head back, I lock eyes with him and hope he can see straight to my soul.
“I love being kissed by you.”
18
CLAY
Ican’t decide if kissing Emma was the worst decision I’ve ever made or the best. I’m mentally stuck in the middle, but all I can think is,The damage is done.
She told me she loves being kissed by me, and well, I love kissing her. I have since the very first one. I don’t know what it is about her, but it’s different. Sure, I’ve kissed plenty of girls over the years, but every one of those pales next to her. She is full sensory overload, and the moment her lips were finally on mine, I felt this peace I haven’t had in a long time. All these challenges I’ve been having with myself over the last year about not feeling like I’m first in any area of my life—those feelings calmed and disappeared. The noise quieted, and for however long that kiss lasted, I felt first to me.
