Friday, June 6, 2014

The Taking-It-Slow Kiss

Book Title: None (WIP)
Author: Cait Greer
Heat: Sweet

Again, notice how it's not *just* about the lips.


“I just don’t know what to do about them. All of them. My cousin Josh, he seemed so excited to see me, but every time I see him now, he’s either attached to Izzy’s face, or being an ass-wipe with Jack. Jack seems to be operating under the idea that I’m his, and why shouldn’t I be, because everyone loves him. And Izzy encourages it!

“I mean, I like Izzy, but I’d like to get to know other people, and they just monopolize me, and I don’t get it! But I don’t want to be ungrateful, either. And I like Izzy. I just don’t like Jack.”

“You want to be free to make your own friends.”

He sounded closer. My heart sped up. I fiddled with my pencils to try and ignore it.

“Yeah. I do.”

“And to like the people you like.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, since my heart was pounding over my voice box because he was closer again, and quieter.

“You need to just tell them, Keira.”

I swallowed.

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s simple.” I felt a brush of pressure down my arm. I glance at it and saw his long fingers sliding across my coat sleeve. “You just walk up to them and say, ‘I’d far rather spend my time with Haydn, and you’re making it impossible.’”

I laughed, and his fingers tightened on my arm. Not hard. Just enough.

“Or you could just say ‘Jack, you’re a world-class wanker,’ and walk away.”

I made a quick move to cover my mouth until I could reply. “I dunno, it’s hard to choose between the two. Maybe I could just say both.”

“You could. You could also turn around so I can kiss you.”

I stopped breathing, and went willingly as his hand pulled me around. In the back of my mind I wondered if all British boys were so forward. But then his long fingers lifted my chin, and I lost myself in eyes that were so dark they reminded me of the ocean in a storm. Dark and tumultuous.

And then his lips touched mine, and I really was lost.

This kiss was nothing like Jack’s. Nothing. Haydn went slow, asking with every slight brush of his lips against mine, with the way his fingers inched along my jaw. So slow I almost couldn’t breathe. Just a touch, a tease, the tickle of his breath against mine.

By the time his mouth gently tugged at my lower lip, I thought I would die. But I couldn’t move. I was frozen by him, a single hand fisted in his shirt, clenched so hard it was trembling. Or maybe all of me was trembling at his touch, the slow mingling of our breath.

Haydn bent his head lower, pressing his nose against mine, and pulling at my lip, dragging it along the edge of his teeth. And then he tilted his head to the side and finally, finally, gathered my jaw in his hands, and opened his mouth on mine.

Lord, I was in heaven.

He kept up the same tortuous pace, tasting, testing. Still asking permission, even when my own lips practically begged. I’d never been kissed like this, so carefully.

And yet, when he finally broke away, I was gasping for breath.

So was he.

I smiled, and then laughed.


“Nothing. Just that I was right.”

“About what?”

I looked up at him. “The first time I saw you.”

“What about it?”

“Just that I thought you had very kissable lips. Definitely right.”


WHEW. Wow. Thoughts?


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