He yanks the spoon from my hand, then drags the back down the length of my nose and over my lips. “Oh no, I'm so sorry. I was trying to bring it to the sink for you."
My mouth is hanging open in response to the cold sensation dripping down my face. “Jerk!"
With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, he leans in and licks my nose. “Did you just lick my nose?" I'm not complaining, just asking. It turns me on so … it's all good.
“I don't have a napkin," he says.
“Okay, well I'll grab one, thanks." As I try to stand up though, he grabs my arm and pulls me into him. “You still have some on your lips, but I thinka napkin would be a waste for that part.” I can't find the words to agree, so my eyes close in a flutter, waiting for the warmth I can still recall from his lips touching my cheek the other night. His lips are supple, and I remember the kiss from the first night we went out, the kiss that made me a little drunker. It was clear he's skilled in maneuvering his lips in a way that made my entire body turn into putty. Again, I'm melting as I sink into the plushness of my couch, while I embrace every tiny shock zipping through my body. A wet finger on a socket is what his touch does to my insides.
His hand cradles my chin as his tongue teases the tip of mine. Wesley moans a soft hum, and the vibration hits the back of my throat.
Holy shit, I need him.
I need more, so I wrap my arms around his neck, inviting him in closer while inching across the length of the couch beneath his hovering straddle. The tips of my fingers comb through his silky dark hair and tug, silently begging him to come closer regardless of the lack of space left between us.
Our lips are fighting a battle that will have no winner, and I don't want this moment to end. Part of me feared this happening, and yet, I have been hoping it would. Drunk thoughts might be sober feelings, but drunken kisses are the best sober moments.
His thumb sweeps against my ear, and he pulls his lips from mine. “God, I needed that all week."
“A kiss?" I ask.
“That wasn't just a kiss," he whispers. “That's the happy ending to every one of those chick flicks I've ever seen."
“I want more, and I don't want the chick flick because I'd rather experience Cinemax.”
He laughs a little, leaving me in the fog of his chocolate flavored breath. “I did not come over here for that. I came over here for this."
“To tease me?"
“Some might call it payback for falling asleep on me during our one-night-stand, but I'm calling it something more. I don't want you to be a one-night-stand woman."
“It wouldn't be ‘that' tonight because we've known each other a week now," I tell him, realizing how ridiculous I sound.
“Exactly." He leaves me with another short kiss, then places his head on my chest, and faces the TV. “The movie is getting good now."
“Yeah, I'm thinking the same," I tell him.
This is the worst kind of movie.
