Monday, August 19, 2013

The After-a-Near-Fight Kiss

Book Title: (WIP)
Author: Jenny Kaczorowski
Heat: Flirty


“Shit.” Bastian said, finding his tongue again. He stooped to pick up his camera. “Are you okay?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“That those guys were a lot bigger than you?”

“Bas, you can’t fight. I’d punch you myself if it wouldn’t kill you!”

His eyes twinkled. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m serious. Those guys were twice your size.”

He stopped and very deliberately picked up her skate board.“And they had you. Did you really want me to sit on my hands while they hurt you?”

She accepted the board, falling into step as he stomped back to the parking lot.

“Did you get the shots you need?” she asked.

“Kinda lost the moment.”

“Stop. Bastian. Wait.”

He set his camera down on a bench and turned around.“If those guys had hurt you, I would have hurt them back.”

She lowered the board to the ground. “I can handle myself.”

“Damn it, Summer. Don’t you get it?”

She shook her head back, then forth.

He moved forward, pinning her against the side of a car. She let her board slide to the ground.

“You’re not the only person who cares about you any more,” he said. He was stronger than he looked, more sure. He slid one hand around her waist and when she didn’t stop him, didn’t discourage him, he bent his head, millimeter by millimeter.

The fading sun bathed him in gold, the sunset shinning in his eyes. His hair brushed her cheek, his breath her neck.

Her legs trembled, adrenaline rising and falling and heart rate pounding and –

“Oh, God. They could have hurt me.” She clutched his shirt, knotting it in her fists. “Bastian, they could have hurt me.”

“Shhh.” He touched her arms, her cheeks. He didn’t offer petty words.

Instead, he kissed her.

Slow, deep, measured and practiced and sure, he kissed her.

Lips soft and strong at once. The cool tingle of mint on her tongue. His hands cupping her face and drawing her in.

She let him ease away, let him end the moment.

“I haven’t been kissed in a long time,” she said.

“I can kiss you again if you need a reminder.”

She let a smile twitch at her lips. “I use my body to get what I want. I kiss boys to control them, make them get me drinks or wax my board or let me sleep on their couches. I’ve kissed a lot of boys but I haven’t been kissed.”

“Oh, Summer.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, the tip if her nose, her neck. “You deserve to be kissed.”

“You don’t know me well enough to say that.” She pressed her palm to his chest. “Nice boys don’t fall for girls like me.”

“Maybe I’m not a nice boy.”

She slid his glasses off. “You’re so beyond nice.”

“You can’t scare me away with stories about other boys.”

“I heard what my mom told you.” She lowered her eyes, fixating on his Adam’s apple instead of his eyes.

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“Six months ago...” She swallowed. “I would have gone with those boys and drank until I didn’t know who I was kissing.”

“Six months ago I was pining over Abby Harris.”

She giggled. Legit giggled. Like a silly girl. “Who says pining?”

“Apparently nice, naive, myopic boys who are hopelessly dependent on you to give their glasses back.”

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” She leaned closer, captivated by the thick, straight cluster of lashes framing his almond shaped eyes.

“Not unless my sisters put it on while I was sleeping. Which could happen I suppose.”

“Your eyes are amazing.” She touched two fingers to his brow bone. “Isn’t Vega a Spanish name?”

“My dad’s family is from Argentina.”

“But your eyes look almost Asian.”

A small smile curled his lips. “No one has ever noticed. My mom’s family is Mongolian.”

“That is so cool. My family's white as all get out.”

He leaned closer, pressing his body into hers, hips to hips. “Do you really want to talk about our families?” His lips nearly touched hers. “I can’t see a thing beyond your face and all I want to do is kiss you until you can’t see anything but mine.”

She tightened her fingers in his hair. “I don’t think I can.” She slowly released the air from her lungs. “And that scares me.”

He kissed the side of her mouth. “Don’t you like to be scared?” He moved to the other side. “The adrenaline rush?” Teased her bottom lip. “The feeling of invincibility? Isn’t that why you surf?”

She caught his face between her hands, holding him still, then pressed her lips to his. But her control only lasted a moment before she softened into the caress of his fingers along her spine and the warmth and softness of his mouth, like he was taking in her hard, jagged edges and breathing them out on the cooling night air.

“Sebastian Vega,” she whispered. “You could destroy me.”


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