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Let’s do this for real.
His arm slowly falls and he looks at me like I’m a painting come to life. Like I’m too precious to hold.
I blink away the rain falling into my eyes. Tapping my lips, I speak the words, “Sign… here.”
His eyes cloud with confusion.
I pucker my lips, making my meaning clear.Kiss me!
A smile flashes across his face, as quick and as bright as lightning. He grabs me by the back of the neck and surges forward. Our lips collide in a near-painful crash. It’s not a kiss so much as it is a stamp of approval.
Laughter builds in my chest. Did he think I’d take the words back if he let the moment pass?
Dare eases away and, in his eyes, I see a hint of dismay.
He definitely acted on pure, driven instinct.
“Sorry,” he signs. I see the rest of his words in a flash of lightning. “This time will be better.”
“I know,” I sign back. “You’re a good kisser.”
The lines in his forehead smooths out as he smiles. Holy Chanel, that smile. We’re sitting in the rain, but I might as well be staring directly at the sun. The five o’clock shadow, the straight edge of his white teeth, his lips—lips that I really want to taste. He’s utter perfection.
Delicious.
Yummy.
I want to kiss him again.
But he just keeps looking at me.
The promise of forever lingers in the air between us. Sticky, sweet, thick with tension and possibility.
No, it can’t beforever.
This is…
Something else. Something powerful, but I won’t let it get that far.
His dark hair is pitch black and plastered to his temple. I gently brush my fingers under one of the strands, pushing it back toward his ear. He captures my hand and brings it to his lips. Softly, he presses a kiss there. What does the rain on my skin taste like? What does the rain onhisskin taste like?
Curious, I pick up his hand, the dominant one. Dare has the kind of hands that Deej would say were made for piano. Long, elegant. Beautiful. I press my mouth to his wrist, right above the skin where his hair thickens. Right above his pulse point.
My kiss is open-mouthed. Soft. A light flicker of my tongue to taste.
Licking the raindrops off my top lip, I close my eyes. His skin doesn’t taste like smoke and cinnamon. Disappointing. I thought he was made of the stuff.
I’m still analyzing the taste of Dare and the rain when I feel the air around me shifting. There’s less rain and wind hitting my face now. He must be leaning over me. The fragrance of smoky cinnamon grows stronger.
I tilt my face up without having to open my eyes. Feel his breath. Feel his hands cradle my face. The tip of his middle finger and thumb are calloused. He holds pens often. It’s his power. So many lives, jobs, and families are affected with one swipe of ink across a page.
Those powerful hands now caress me like I’m a gift bestowed from the heavens.
I hold my breath, waiting,knowing.
And then it happens.
Dare gently brushes my lips with his and I yield completely, inhaling the scent of damp earth and salty raindrops. I wrap my arms around his neck, getting so lost in him I’d need a compass and a North star to find my way out.
