He’s mine.
A frisson runs all the way down my back.
Our gazes lock, and my lips part.
Finally, he dips his head and presses his lips to mine.
It’s broad daylight, and I half expect to hear yells along the beach complaining about Public Displays of Affection, but the only sounds are the whoosh of the waves and kids splashing in the sea further down the sand.
After a few seconds, I forget about everyone else, and focus on Marcus.
I’ve never had a kiss like it. The sun is warm on my face, and so are his hands. His lips are dry and firm. He doesn’t thrust his tongue into my mouth. And he doesn’t slaver all over me. He presses his lips against mine the same way he did in the bar, kissing me gently, taking his time.
I have to remind myself to breathe before I black out. Our breath entangles, and it makes me think of the way Maori hongi one another, pressing their foreheads and noses together,exchanging the Ha or breath of life. It’s a symbol of unity and blends the life forces of two people.
The thought brings goose bumps out all over me. He’ll be my husband; I’ll be his wife. He wants to have sex with me.
And I want to have sex with him too. I admit it. He fascinates me. And his promise that he can give me regular orgasms makes me tremble. Is he for real?
I’m beginning to think he is as he moves his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him. I can’t help it; my arms creep up his chest and hover around his shoulders before sliding up into his hair.
The last memories of him as an eighteen-year-old boy flee my mind as he tilts his head a little to the side, changing the angle of the kiss. He smells amazing. I love that he’s taller than me. There’s nothing boyish about him. He’s all man.
Every inch of him. Pressing against my stomach, impressively hard against me.
Oh my.
For the first time, he touches his tongue to my bottom lip. Heat flares inside me, lighting a touchpaper at the base of my spine and sending fire shooting up inside me. I part my lips automatically, and he slides his tongue into my mouth, against mine.
I can’t stop a small moan escaping me. He answers with a growl deep in his throat and tightens his arms, and now we’re pinned from thighs to chest, lip-locked, our tongues tangling as he deepens the kiss.
What feels like two weeks but is probably only a minute later, he finally lifts his head and moves back, although he keeps his arms around me, presumably to make sure I don’t faint. I guess I am the equivalent of a Victorian governess.
“Mmm, we’re definitely doing that again,” he murmurs. “Preferably soon.”
I push him away in a panic. “You used your tongue.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I improvised.”
“Well, don’t. Now I’m in a tizz.”
He laughs and cups my face in his big hands again. “You’re stunning when you’re flustered.” He kisses my mouth and then releases me. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
While we walk, Marcus talks about meeting his parents, the engagement party, and the wedding. I don’t hear any of it. He’s literally—not metaphorically, literally—melting my brain. I’m sure it’s oozing out of my ears like soft caramel.
When we reach my house, he stops and takes my hand. “Babe,” he says. “Are you okay?”
“What?” I stare at him blankly.
His lips curve up. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll leave you alone for a while to let everything sink in. Are you busy tomorrow?”
“Ah… I have no idea. I don’t think so.”
“Cool. I’ll pick you up at midday, and we’ll have lunch at my parents’.”
“Wait, what?”
“Might as well get it over with. You can discuss the engagement party with my mother.”
