Friday, June 6, 2014

The First Goodbye Kiss

Book Title: SIGHT
Author: Darci Cole
Heat: <3 Sweet <3


“You’re leaving.”

Markku turned quickly to see the servant girl standing in the hidden doorway leading to the kitchens. Her gentle face showed pride, and he knew that she would not stop him.

Dropping his bag, he went to her and wrapped her in his arms. Her embrace felt like the dawn of a new day.

He pulled her closer, burying his face in her dark hair.

“I can’t stay here.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He pulled away and saw a single tear roll down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Edal. I wish there was a way…”

“You’ll find a way,” she whispered. “I know you will, and I’ll wait for you here.”

“Come with me,” he pleaded.

She shook her head. “No. Your father will know I did and he’ll come after you with more vengeance. Go alone, and find a place for us. Then send for me. I’ll be waiting.”

“How can I thank you?” he said, cradling her face in his hand. “You’ve shown me how joyful life can be. Leaving you... I…”

He was still in awe that a creature beautiful and brilliant as Edal had seen goodness in him when he had been his father’s tool. He looked into her crystal-blue eyes. The bliss that a simple smile from her could bring him was his only thought as he lowered his face to hers.

Their lips met softly. All the anger – the tension of having to hide who he was – fell away. Suddenly he could see into the future: his future. Edal wore a white gown, her long black tresses streaming down her back, with lavender flowers forming a crown on her head. She may not be a princess to his father, but she was every bit as elegant and gracious as Markku thought a princess should be.

He let his hand trace her spine, making her shiver and press herself closer to him. He sighed. Their lips parted, and they smiled nervously at each other. He wished he’d kissed her before now. It seemed wrong for him to leave after this.

Holding her hand, he picked up his pack and swung it over his shoulder. They left together through the servant’s door. She followed him until they reached a fork in the passage; one way led to the kitchens, the other to the stables.

They embraced once more. “I will come back for you,” he said. “I give you my word as a knight.”

She had tears in her eyes. “I know you will.”

“I love you, Edal.”

Her breath shook, but her eyes blazed. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again. This time, he felt her desire in every move of her lips. Her arms were like shackles he never wanted released. He was her prisoner. But all too soon, he was freed.

She gazed up at him, her eyes filled with adoration. “And I love you, Markku. Please be safe.”


One of my favorites. Did you like it? Let us know!


The Long-Time-Coming Kiss

Book Title: SIGHT
Author: Darci Cole
Heat: <3 Sweet <3



Peering back, she saw that Gunnar stood behind her. He looked hesitant, nervous.

She frowned at him, and turned back to her contemplation of the ocean.

The sound of his boots walking away made her wince.

Not now, she thought miserably. Maybe not ever.

He had been so patient with her, letting her take her time, growing to feel so much for him over the course of this journey. But with Dusan gone, and an uncertain road ahead, she couldn’t give in to romance right now. No matter how much she’d have liked to.

A few seconds later, footsteps came toward her hurriedly. Something’s wrong. She turned, wondering what had happened.

Gunnar reappeared.

“What’s – ”

Before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her. She inhaled through her nose in surprise. She backed into the side of the ship. His mouth was persistent, never leaving hers. She gripped his forearms intending to push him away, but the feel of his hands on her waist, holding her so gently, made her hesitate. Then, his lips relaxed, moving softly against hers, and she felt a sigh escape her.

She melted into him. His hands wrapped around her. One found the small of her back, pulling her close. The other came to her jaw, stroking and angling her face as the kiss became tender. Without words, he was saying all the things she’d wanted him to say for weeks. He pulled away slightly, smiling against her mouth.


"Yes?" she breathed.

"I've wanted to do that for a very long time."


Like it? Tell us!


The Close-Call Kiss

Title: be my shield (five times we touched.)
Author: Laura Genn
Heat: FliRtY

This is from a fanfic Laura wrote regarding events before/during/after CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER. It ships Captain America/Steve Rogers & Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff. This scene, specifically, is what she imagined took place during the film -- We know that 1) Steve has a major battle and almost dies. 2) He wakes up in a hospital bed. 3) During all this, Natasha reveals all the records of her questionable past online (brave move!) in order to stop the bad guys. She imagined that Natasha went to look for Steve somewhere between events 1 and 2. This is that imagined scene.


Natasha drops to the sand, kneeling beside him. "Damn you, Rogers."

He raises his eyebrows. "You should be thanking me."

"For what?"


Somehow she laughs, though her throat is raw from screaming. "What makes you think I care?"

Weakly, his mouth lifts into a smile. His eyes are blue and fierce, like summer skies. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" she breathes.

"To me," he says.

Everything rises up at once, a cleansing, searing tide that wipes her clean...

It has been so long since Natasha was certain of anything, but this — this thing between them — it is aggressive and persistent, and the thought of losing him now, after all they've been through, after all they've fought for, was enough to buckle her knees.

On impulse, Natasha grips his face between her hands and kisses him, slow and sure. His lips move in time with hers, and his fingers find their way into her hair, pulling her closer. She can't remember how to breathe.

Steve Rogers doesn't need her, and she sure as hell doesn't need him. But she wants him, not because of an assignment from S.H.I.E.L.D. but because, when she's with him, sometimes for the briefest moment she believes this could be home.

Abruptly, he cries out in pain.

Natasha draws back, her lips hovering inches from his. "Steve, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I..." She looks down. Bloodstains bloom across his chest, staining his uniform a dark, dark red. She pulls back, her face white. "Oh, hell, did you get shot?"

Steve shrugs, wincing. "Once or twice."

"I'll comm a medical team," she says, her adrenaline pumping. Damn, that's a lot of blood. Some of the desperation must show in her voice, because Maria Hill doesn't ask questions. She simply agrees to come, then disconnects immediately.

"You're going to be okay, Steve," Natasha says. "I swear, you're going to be okay."

"Are you?"


He holds her gaze, piercing. "Are you okay?"

At the question, heat flushes her face, burns through her veins. He watches her, unassuming. Willing to wait for her to gather her courage.

After a breath, she says, "I followed our plan."

Steve pauses, processing. A crease forms between his eyebrows, then vanishes as he remembers. "Your cover's blown," he says, and it isn't a question.

Natasha swallows. She's on the verge of something — a sob or a gasp or another scream — but she's repressed it all for so long, she can't even tell the difference. She wants to talk, but all she can do is nod.

Silence settles. There is only the river and their unsteady breaths.

"I don't have to see it," Steve says.

"See what?"

"Your history," he says.

She blinks, overcome. "Steve..."

"I don't have to see it," he says, not a sliver of deceit in his eyes. His smile is sunlight, chasing her shadows away. "I don't have to see any of it."

They stare at each other, barely blinking.

Softly, Natasha asks, "Why?"

He grips her hand, knotting their fingers together. "I trust you," he says. "To talk to me."

A single tear falls, slipping down her cheek. "Steve," she says. "Steve, you can't... I'm not..." Not who you think I am. Not the woman I'd like to be.

But he tightens his grip on her hand and says, "I trust you."

Without thinking, she leans down to kiss him again. He is inexperienced, allowing her to take the lead. And she does. He tastes like fire and steel and ash, like a thousand fractured yesterdays. She kisses him
harder, long and deep, desperate and damaged, like a promise of tomorrow.


For me, (admin) this is a perfect example of using emotion rather than body parts in a kiss scene. Lovely and genuine, yes? What do you think?


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?


The "Shouldn't" Kiss

Book Title: WIP
Author: Rachel Simon
Heat: FliRtY


I lean my fishing pole against the fallen tree trunk and turn around to face him. The river sings to him with its rushing waters and tiny fish; I can see it in the way his eyes wander from me to my fishing pole to the river and back again. Instead of grabbing his pole like I think he's going to, Jesse turns to me.

Before I can process anything, he presses his lips onto mine. I don't try to stop it. I know I should because we can't be anything more than friends. I can't fall for him. He's going to leave and then what's the point of everything?

Instead, I open my mouth and our kiss intensifies. Kissing him isn't anything like kissing Colton, I think, as Jesse's hands find their way to the small of my back. My fingers play his shoulders like a piano, and I lose myself in it. The buzz of mosquitos disappear; the only thing I hear now is the sound of his heartbeat. Bum, bum, bum. It's in tune with mine, a song that only the two of us can hear. I slide my hands around his neck, arms looped. I step closer into him, chest-to-chest.

I should want more; my body tingling. But I don't. I'm liking this just as it is. I haven't hooked up with a sweet boy like this since, well, ever. Jackson [first boyfriend] was patient, but there was nothing sweet about us. And the string of boys after don't count. Colton certainly doesn't.


Thoughts? Let us know how you liked it!


The Playful Kiss

Book Title: Hate Jacket
Author: M. Andrew Patterson
Heat Level: Flirty


A bright blue button catches my eye at the same time she notices it. We both sit there staring at it and each other. A standoff. Gunslingers poised at high noon. Her hand darts out and snatches it just a second before mine. I grab for her and send buttons flying. With a shriek she falls back onto the bed.

Before I know it, I’m on top of her, with her hands pinned above her head. Her hand is clutched firmly around the button with my hand on top. I feel the warmth of her skin through my clothes. She’s breathing fast, her lips parted with a slight smile. They’re so soft and inviting.

I look into her crystal green eyes. I don’t see fear. They sparkle with amusement. My heart is pounding in my chest so hard I’m certain she can feel it. I can’t stop myself as I lower my head. Our lips are inches apart. She doesn’t move away. Her eyes are still locked on mine.

I close the gap and my lips lightly touch hers. Her breath caresses my lips, my heart thrums inside my chest. Her body presses against mine. I seal the kiss. Her lips are soft and warm as they move against mine. Lilac fills my nose and I breathe it in. It fills me, makes me whole. She makes me whole and I want her. I want her more than life, more than breathing. The thought is dizzying.


What did you think? Tell us below!


The Up-Against-The-Wall Kiss

Cait Greer's novel, PARAWARS: UPRISING came out in October last year, and this lovely, steamy, up-against-the-wall kiss is from that NA novel.



I fling myself to the ledge, trying to find him, to find some sign that he’s won the fight. Nothing. Just darkness. Lightning stabs the forest in front of me, tearing the sky with electricity so strong I can feel it, and a thunder clap so deafening that it leaves my ears ringing.

Still nothing. But I can’t take my eyes off the night, can’t pull myself out of the rain. He has to be there. He’s not.

And then he is.

Wings beating against the rain and the wind, he’s not so careful with his landing this time. He lands hard on the balcony, making the force of it vibrate through the stone at my feet. Rain pours off him in a million tiny rivers that flow over every crease and bend in his body. He pushes up from his three-point landing stance, and I can see blood mixing with the rain to stream off his face. Cullain’s fist must have cut him. His eyes burn black in the shattering darkness.

I reach out for him. “God, Axel, are you alright?”

His hands close tight on my arms, eyes scanning over every inch of me. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

“I…no, I’m fine. You’re bleeding!” There’re two cuts, actually, and I can see he has a split lip. It’s already swelling.

“Are you sure? You’re positive? You’re not hurt?” His eyes are almost frantic on mine.

“I’m fine!” My fingers brush his split lip as lightning strikes again, throwing his features into sharp contrast. “It’s you I’m worried about, look at thi—”

I don’t finish my sentence. I can’t.

I can’t because his lips are on mine, crushing down. I can taste the rain on him, sweet, and the sharp tang of his blood. His mouth is hungry, flexing against mine, working my jaw open wider, drinking me in. His tongue flickers, teasing, tasting, running along my lip, dancing with my own.

My heart pounds in my ears. Everything around me vanishes but him. I don’t notice the rain that runs down my head and face and body, or the lightening that splits the night. I can’t hear the thunder over the pounding of my heart. I only have room for him, for his touch, his lips, his hands, his body. Fingers slide from my shoulder up to my neck, until they tangle in my hair. His other hand slides to my waist, pulling me tight, until I couldn’t move away if I wanted to. I can’t imagine ever wanting to. My own hands are on his chest, ranging up and down, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, his abs, his shoulders.

I don’t realize we’re moving until my back hits the wall.

He pulls away a fraction, and I groan, breath coming in great gasps.

“Tell me to stop, tell me to leave, and I will,” he whispers, his breath on my lips.

“Never leave,” I breathe back, and his lips crash down into me again. I’m just as desperate for him. Our wet bodies press tighter against each other, until we can’t possibly get any closer, but we still try. I want to climb inside him.

He takes my lower lip in his mouth, pulling and biting at it, his tongue sliding along the edge. It sends shivers down my spine. My fingers tighten on the muscles of his back, willing him closer. His wings wrap around us, sheltering, creating our own space where there’s just the two of us, and nothing else. His mouth moves to my jaw, my neck, licking away the rain, caressing my skin. I can’t keep myself from moaning.

My fingers play with the hem of his soaked shirt, grazing the skin beneath. I want my hands on his body, want to run them over his skin. He kisses the base of my neck and shoulder, sucking gently at the skin, and I can’t help it. My hand slides under his shirt to caress the muscles of his back.

The hand on my waist tightens, and he freezes.

“Kendry,” he breathes in my ear. His voice is husky, and it’s half a question, half begging.

I kiss the corner of his mouth lightly, and then again, harder, licking at the blood where it’s split and the rain that still pours down over us. My hand runs up and down his perfect back.

Axel groans, and then his drenched shirt is gone, vanished, and there’s only the warmth of his wet skin under my hand. His fingers dig into my waist as I kiss his collarbone, running my hands up his back, across the base of his wings, under his arms, across the soft, beautiful skin of his chest, up over his shoulders and down the clenched muscles of his arms. And then they run back up to pull his lips down again to mine. His hips press hard against me, pinning my body against the wall as his lips devour me

And just when things are getting good, he reaches up and pulls my arms away.

He leans his head against mine, our chests heaving, water dripping from his rain-soaked black hair. The rain is finally calming, settling into a drizzle. His wings still surround us, our hands still grasping at each other. I whimper quietly, wishing he’d kiss me again, that he’d let go of my arms and go where I know this was going two seconds ago. But he just stands there, leaning against me, keeping me against the wall outside my room. His thumb reaches up to trace my lips, and when he kisses me this time, it’s soft, tender.

“I have wanted to do that for so long,” he whispers.