Our mouths are drifting closer together as if one of us is a planet thrown off its orbit and put on a collision course with disaster. He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, and I get a pull deep, deep in my belly in a place I haven’t been satisfied in longer than I’d care to acknowledge right now.
“I don’t have camera people here,” he says, his voice hoarse and strained.
“I wouldn’t care if you did.”
We’re doing this.
We’re doing this kiss.
Is he a start-soft-then-go-deep kisser? Is he a licker? Is he aggressive, or will he surprise me like his hair?
There’s a thick sensation building between my thighs that doesn’t care the answer.
I want to know what it is.
I want to know how Fletcher kisses.
How he’ll kissme.
His chest is rising and falling more rapidly, and our slow swaying to the music is getting slower and slower.
Millimeters.
That’s how far apart our lips are now.
My eyes drift shut. My pussy clenches. I tighten my grip around his neck and in his hair. My nipples are so hard they’re almost painful. His breath is warm against my cheek.
So close.
Soclose.
Any moment now, our lips will meet, and?—
He trips.
Trips?
No.
He’sshoved, right into me, throwing both of us off-kilter as his lips leave a wet streak along my cheek.
“Oops,” Nick Murphy says. “Guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Kami squeezes her eyes shut and sighs while she clearly takes charge of their dance and pushes him away from us.
Fletcher grips me tighter, rebalanced and making sure I am too, and gives Nick a flat stare. “Happens when you have a hot date.”
Nick grins. “It does.”
Kami sucks her lips into her mouth and buries her head into his chest, clearly hiding how amused she is that her husband cock-blocked Fletcher.
And me.
“We should get a room,” Fletcher says to me. “You ready, Goldie?”
No.
No, I amnotready.
