Page 104 of This is a Kissing Book

This kiss consumes me like fire—bright and wild and impossible to contain. My breathing turns ragged, matching his, and I realize I’m trembling.

He breaks away long enough to catch his breath, his forehead pressed to mine again. He lets out a heavy, happy sigh that makes my heart blip.

Then his lips find mine once more, and as if we realize we’re no longer escaping the jaws of death, it turns softer. We’re not at risk of dying.

Though whatever burns between us could be far more dangerous.

I never knew a kiss could speak so clearly. It’s like he’s saying, I see you and I need you and I’m scared of losing you all without uttering a single word.

The connection between us hums like it’s alive, electric, and undeniable. I finally understand what people mean when they talk about falling in love. Because that’s exactly what this is—a freefall with no safety net and no guarantees, just an overwhelming certainty that I’d rather crash with Linc than stay safely alone on solid ground.

When we finally break apart, I’m convinced that I’ve forgotten how to form coherent thoughts.

“We should …” I start, then stop because I have no idea how to finish that sentence.

Keep kissing!

“Go back …” he starts, voice rough.

To kissing!

Our eyes meet, his whiskering at the corners with amusement.

We break into laughter. At the absurdity of everything that happened. At us actually getting along as Jules and Linc, not Yulia and Dirk.

Finally, he says, “We need to regroup. Shower.”

“Lie low,” I add.

And hopefully, I can remember how to act like a normal human being instead of someone whose entire nervous system was rewired by a kiss in an alley.

I somehow manage to remain cool under pressure. Until we get back to the hotel and I shower.

After barely escaping with our lives from the underground tunnel, my hands shake as the hot water washes away the dirt, unlocking the reality of how the crushing weight of tons of concrete could’ve buried us alive. We could have died. The voices of the people chasing us echo in my ears. Who was it? Why were they looking for me?

Dad. The debt. They were thugs, no doubt. He knew plenty of those.

But in the blur of everything that happened, I could’ve sworn one of them said the name “Drecken.”

I give my head a little shake to dismiss the stomach-clenching anxiety, only for it to be replaced by another kind of nervousness.

Linc and I kissed.

We kissed while covered in tunnel dust and adrenaline, and it was desperate, like the world was ending yet life-affirming, completely insane, and … perfect.

After my shower, wrapped up in a cocoon of soft cotton, I curl up on the couch while Linc paces by the windows, both of us maintaining a careful distance—like we’re a pair of jumper cables, sparking with electricity. If we close the space, this whole place could combust.

Breaking the silence, I say, “That was some major National Treasure type action.”

“Like the movie?”

“Complete with cobwebs.”

“I thought you were thinking more like Indiana Jones.”

“Does that make me Marion Ravenwood?” I follow with as much of a laugh as I can muster.

Linc saunters over to me, wraps his hands around my waist, drawing me to him. It’s a new sensation and I like it. The weight of his arms. The warmth from his body. It’s welcome.