Page 103 of This is a Kissing Book

I drag my hands along her back, pulling her closer to me. Her heart drums, assuring us both this is real. The kiss deepens, boldly forging its own path forward.

My chest feels wide open, expansive like finally being able to take a deep breath after a lifetime, never mind the last thirty minutes, of holding it.

The taste of dust disappears, replaced with something sweeter—Jules. My thumb traces the curve of her jaw, and she makes a small sound against my mouth that brings light to a dark part of my interior. A place that hadn’t been in fog. But shrouded. Hidden. Alone.

This woman. It’s her. No other.

Her fingers thread through my hair, gentle but insistent, and I feel her smile against my lips before the kiss deepens again. Not frantic this time but seeking. Like we’re both trying to memorize this moment, seal it away somewhere safe.

I pull back enough to rest my forehead against hers, our breath mingling in the small space between us. Her eyes flutter open, those gray depths now liquid silver in the dim alley.

“I thought—” Her voice catches. “When that wall came down, I thought⁠—”

It was all over.

But we’ve been given a second chance and I have to seize it.

“I know.” I brush my lips across her temple, her cheekbone. “Me too.”

She tilts her face up, and I capture her mouth again. My hands map the slope of her spine, the delicate wings of her shoulder blades. Every point of contact feels like a promise I’m making without words.

Does she feel it?

Her palm presses flat against my chest, right over my thundering heart, and I know she can feel exactly what she does to me.

When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and it has nothing to do with our underground adventure.

“Jules—” My eyebrows pinch together.

She whispers, “Please don’t say this was adrenaline or a mistake or⁠—”

I kiss her again, softer this time, trying to pour everything I can’t say into the connection between us. Everything about who I really am, everything about how much she means to me, everything about how terrified I am that she’s in danger because of me.

37

JULES

Still somewhere in a DC alleyway, covered in dust, having barely escaped the tunnel with our lives, Linc’s gaze hovers over me like he’s memorizing every detail of my dirt-streaked face, his eyes heavy-lidded in a way that makes my pulse skip.

When he pulls my face to his again, our lips are poised inches apart. His breath brushes across my cheek, warm yet unsteady.

My pulse counts down. Three, two, one.

Once more, our mouths collide.

Kissing this man is all-consuming—scrambling my head, flooding my heart, turning my knees wobbly.

He shifts the angle of his head and I press closer to the hard wall of his chest. My breath catches, and for a moment it seems like the world holds its breath too.

Want pinwheels through me, sharp and sweet and terrifying.

Delightful shivers cascade down my spine as his mouth moves over mine with an urgency that steals what’s left of my thoughts. This is nothing like the decoy, almost-kiss—a distraction for passersby.

This is real.

Every careful boundary we’ve maintained shatters like glass.

My fingers tangle in his hair, and he makes a low sound in his throat that I feel more than hear. His hands slide from my face to my shoulders, down my arms, leaving trails of heat in their wake. When he pulls me flush against him, I lose track of where I end and he begins.