His gaze drops to my lips. All the tension I thought had fizzled out while I was trying to decide if he wanted to kiss me because I’m fat, or if he wanted to kiss me and I just so happen to be fat, bursts back into the space between us making the air sizzle.
“You’d probably like it.” My voice cracks like I haven’t had anything to drink for days.
He smirks, then reaches out like he’s going to touch my face. My heart stops, my body freezes, ready and waiting for his hand to skim my face but he moves my hair, or touches my taco, or some part of me that leaves disappointment flooding my veins.
He wobbles his head back and forth like he’s trying to deliberate whether or not he’d like a head-butt.
My core is on fire, my body alive with an electricity that’s surging to life the closer my body gets to his. The tightness in my chest is demanding I move closer still, like if I don’t kiss him I might stop breathing.
I get bored of waiting. I grab the edge of his fabric blue ghost costume and jerk him toward me.
It’s as though I take him by surprise at first, his body tenses, but once my lips meet his, it’s game on. He wraps his arm around me, splaying his palm on my shoulder and pressing me against him. With his free hand, he cups my face, stroking my cheekbone with the side of his thumb as he slow-kisses me like he’s got all damn day.
I loop my arms around his neck, lowering my defences just a tad, just enough to open my mouth and let his tongue slide between my lips. He’s cautious at first.
Does he think I’m going to bite his tongue off? Maybe I will.
It’s not a screen-worthy kiss by any means, but itislife altering. I’ve never been kissed like this. It’s like he’s taken all of his emotions from the depth of his soul, bundled them up, and is transmitting them through his lips.
He takes his time. With each soft flick of his tongue against mine our mouths find a rhythm together. There’s no teeth clinking, our noses don’t get in each other’s way, and when he changes direction, I counter without issue, like our kiss is a practiced dance we’ve been doing together for years.
Except it’s the first time.
Is this my last first kiss?
It couldn’t be. No one’sthatgood, right?
He’s hot and all, but is he really all that?
Sure, he likes music, and can sing, he’s funny, and clearly has a softer side...
I mean... It’s unlikely that he’s Mr. Right, but he could easily be Mr. Right Now.
When he tips my head back to deepen the kiss, I sigh into his mouth.
When his hands roam my body like he’s already mapped out the terrain, I can’t fight the smile that spreads across my face. He’s touching me, holding me, kissing me like he owns me, like he’s not intimidated by my size, like he’s not afraid of my prickly exterior—I don’t think it’s prickly, it’s just what I’ve been told.
He’s touching me like he doesn’t give a flying fuck who’s watching.
It’s refreshing, like the first snowfall of winter, or rain after a long and dry summer, and to be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about not needing to take the lead. It’s weird, might even be nice. I’ll have to make him kiss me again to find out.
He moans into my mouth and nibbles on the tip of my nose as he pulls back from me. “Hmmm.”
“What?” A sliver of self-doubt creeps into my chest.
“It didn’t happen.”
“What didn’t happen?” I look down at his pants, and he’s very,veryobviously turned on sosomethingdefinitely happened.
“I didn’t fall in love with you.” He smirks. “Yet. Guess I’ll just have to keep kissing you until I do.” He kisses me again, with even more confidence than the first time. He’s playful, instead of our tongues brushing against each other, he teases me with his lips, nipping at mine, making me work to get my next kiss.
“I like kissing you.” He says between little pecks on my lips.
“Do you? Because right now you’re just frustrating me.” I huff out a heavy breath.
He laughs. “I might like doing that too.”
“I might see if I like kneeing you in the nuts.”
