My first kiss with a guy. It seemed as if I’d been waiting a lifetime for it, yet the moment was rushing at me like a speeding train.
“Stop thinking, River,” Holden whispered. “We’re here. Right now.” He leaned in. “What are you going to do?”
Eleven
Holden
River answered my question by taking hold of the front of my coat and hauling me to him.
Our faces were inches apart, our bodies lined up against each other—hard and tense. We hovered in the moment, heat and electricity crackling between us as my eyes drank him in with desperate thirst. Jesus, his lips were parted, taunting me. I waited for his kiss—his first real kiss. Now that the moment had come, I was desperate for it.
With a sound that was half groan, half grunt, River pulled me tighter to him. Possessively. As if making me his. Then he crushed his mouth to mine.
I thought I was ready.
I’d been kissed a hundred times—wet, mindless mashings of mouths meant to lead to something else. River’s kiss ignited like a flare of light and heat in some cold place in me. His mouth was hard on mine, demanding, but infused with a strange softness that I felt everywhere. I felthimin his kiss, along every cell and sinew in my body that threatened to go limp in his arms.
This is my first kiss too.
River’s tongue was hot and soft but insistent, tasting every corner of my mouth. One of his large hands slipped around my waist and the other over my shoulder, keeping us tight to each other, molding us so there was no separation. No him and me. Just us.
My head fell back under the onslaught of sensation and emotion, my jaw going slack, letting him take my mouth. River grunted at the surrender and invaded harder. Deeper. Burning with lust but fueled by something more. He grasped and gripped and mauled me, yet I was perfectly safe. Floating in a heated bliss. My broken mind went silent, all thought and memory erased until there was nothing left in the world but him.
Warmth seeped into my bones slowly like syrup—River’s kiss an infusion that brought me back to myself. My mouth fought back against his invasion, sucking and biting, my tongue sliding against his, tasting every inch of him. My hands grasped and roamed over his shoulders, then my fingers sank into the thick, silken hair at the back of his head.
His warmth became mine, and my coat was suddenly too heavy. There was too much clothing between us. We kissed for delirious minutes that felt like hours, and then River slowed down. His mouth grew soft, soothing the bites and stubble burn. His tongue tasted gently, his lips sucked softly, and then he pulled away.
We stared at each other, my glazed eyes focusing slowly, my breath returning as if I hadn’t breathed once. Hadn’t needed to. River stared, slightly shell-shocked at what he’d done. A small, disbelieving smile touched his lips that were still wet with our kiss. His eyes held mine intently, and there was no regret. Only a quiet exhilaration. Some part of him that had been lost was now restored.
While I was breaking apart.
I shoved out of the protective circle of River’s arms and fell back against a bank of storage lockers with a hollowclang. My pulse pounded. I could feel him all over me—in my mouth and lungs and heart—his kiss a resuscitation.
He pulled me out of the lake and breathed life into me.
Uncertainty flashed over his eyes. “Did I…do something wrong?”
I shook my head mutely, the warmth—his warmth—still flowing through my veins. How could I explain it had never been like that? That it wasn’tsupposedto be like that?
No one had ever kissed me like it meant something.
Wordlessly, I fumbled for the door and pushed into the too-bright daylight. The talent show was getting out, and I was swept up in a sea of students leaving the auditorium. Too many bodies, too much mindless chatter assaulted my brain. I broke away from the crowd and leaned heavily against a wall, reaching for my flask.
The vodka tasted like gasoline after the perfection of River’s mouth. I took another sip, killing the taste of his kiss from my lips and tongue. But the liquor did nothing to smother the sense memory of how safe I felt with him. As if he’d tried to make good on his promise to never let anyone hurt me again.
“Ridiculous,” I muttered and took a third swig. “It was nothing. A kiss. So fucking what?”
Miller rounded the corner, his guitar slung around his shoulders. He wore jeans, a ratty old jacket, and a beanie that made girls lose their shit.
“Oh, hey, Holden. You okay, man?”
“You played like a damn miracle,” I said to deflect his concern. But Miller was annoyingly humble; compliments bounced right off him.
“Thanks. You sure you’re okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? Aside from the fact that I’m drunk in the middle of the school day.”
Miller didn’t crack a smile. Serious guy, that one.
