I gasp as heat wires through my body.
When I was kissing Zack, I was trying to be nice about it. It’s awkward kissing your best friend — I didn’t want to just lean forward and start sucking his tongue.
Zack doesn’t care about being nice. Wrapping a strong hand around my throat, he kisses me hotly and hungrily. I melt, letting him drag me into his fierce, hard rhythm. He tastes like honey and smoke and whiskey. I lap the flavour right out of him, and feel my breath getting faster as my body lights up. When I get brave enough to nip at his bottom lip, he growls like a bear, yanking me closer. I pant against his mouth as arousal rolls through me.
Jesus, is this what kissing is supposed to feel like? I feel like I’m going to explode. Like all of the tension that’s been slowly building inside me since our date is boiling over. It’s like I’ve lost control of my own body, all of my limbs moving on instinct. He cups my jaw, making a low, rough sound that goes straight between my legs.
Closer. I want to be closer.
I wriggle closer on his lap, jamming my hips against his. Our bodies rub over each other. My hand slides up his thick thigh, and he wraps his fingers around my wrist, drawing my hand up higher, towards the waistband of his jeans…
Josh coughs, and we yank apart. Zack’s eyes drift open slowly. He licks his lips.
“Right, then,” he says. “Huh.” He clears his throat. “Quick learner, aren’t you?”
I slip off his lap, breathing hard. My skin feels hot under my clothes. I’m wet and throbbing. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by kissing before, but right now, I’m so hot it’s literally uncomfortable.
I turn back to face Josh. He’s sitting stiffly on the armchair, his eyes fixed on us, his cheeks pink. He clears his throat and nods.
“Yeah. You look fine,” he says, his voice rough. “I wouldn’t worry.”
“Right.” I look down. “Good.”
We’re all silent for a few seconds. I squeeze my thighs together.
“Uh oh,” Zack says. “I know that face. You’ve fallen for me, haven’t you?”
I scowl at him. “What? No.”
He tuts. “I warned you I was powerful, babe. You shoulda been more careful.”
I jab him hard in the ribs, making him grunt and double over. “Get over yourself. It was just for practice.”
“You say that now, lovebug, but I’m like a drug,” he insists. “Tomorrow, you’ll be wanting your daily fix.”
I snort and stand. “As if. I need the bathroom.”
“Need to calm yourself down?” He nods understandingly. “I get it, babe. Take your time. Do some breathing exercises. It’ll pass.”
I flip him off, pushing my hair back and heading into the corridor towards the bathroom. I click the lock behind me and lean heavily against the door, breathing deeply.
He was only joking, but the embarrassing thing is, I really do need to calm myself down. I glance at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, almost scared of what I’ll see.
It’s just as I suspected.
My cheeks are pink. My eyes are bright. My hair is ruffled from his fingers. When I clench my fists, my fingers stick together with sweat. I groan inwardly, closing my eyes.
For the first time, I understand what all of the hype over kissing is about. I feel like I’m on fire.
I run the cold tap and splash some water onto my cheeks and neck, rubbing it into the hollow of my throat. I don’t know what’s happening.
But I like it.
When I’ve pulled myself together, I fix my hair and step back into the corridor — and immediately slam face-first into a wall of fabric-covered muscle.
“Listening to me pee, Josh?” I ask mildly, stepping back. “So that’s your kink.”
He doesn’t say anything. I try to walk past him, but he blocks my way with his massive body. He’s watching me coolly, his dark eyes intense.
“Can I help you?” I ask politely.
“I was just thinking.”
“Congratulations! Your listeners will be so happy they took a chance on your show.” I try to move past him.
He takes a step forward, crowding me against the wall, and bends so his face is right by mine. I breathe in the cool scent of him. He smells like sweet mints. My mouth starts to water.
“It occurred to me,” he says slowly, “that a data set of one is completely useless.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “What are you implying?”
Slowly, he reaches down and touches the neckline of my top. It’s slipped down a little, and he fixes the fabric back into place, nudging his favourite little ribbon with the side of his thumb. “You’re my girlfriend too, aren’t you?”
“For educational purposes, yes.”
His normally distant eyes are hot and stormy. “What do you think? Will you lose your mind if you kiss me?”
For a moment, I’m shocked speechless. That was the last thing I expected him to say. My silence stretches on too long, and his face shuts down. He pulls back. “I’m sorry. This was—”
I cut him off. “You can kiss me,” I blurt out. “If you want.”
His lips turn up slightly. I notice that he has a dimple on his cheek. Not a full one, but a tiny little divot I’ve never seen before. Then again, I’ve probably only seen Josh smile twice before, so that’s hardly surprising.
He lifts his hand, cupping the back of my neck. I shiver as I feel his fingers twisting through my hair. “Yes?” He murmurs.
My stomach crunches with nerves. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and nod, tilting my mouth up to his.
While Zack’s kisses were hot and full of lips and teeth and energy, Josh’s kisses are soft and slow and drugging. His lips press against mine in deep, long, smooth strokes, draining all of the energy out of my body until my knees are weak. I feel hot and soothed and aroused all at the same time. He gives me three long, slow pecks, then just stays there for a few seconds, his lips soft and parted against mine, breathing slowly like he doesn’t want to pull away.
“Well?” I ask, breathless.
He clears his throat, finally straightening. “Well, what?”
“What would you rate me?”
He tugs at his hair. He looks like he’s trying not to smile. “You are so odd, Layla Thompson.”
“I need to put it in my spreadsheet,” I insist. “So I can see how I improve over time. Maybe I should chart a graph. It’s difficult to quantify kissing skill, but—”
He makes a low, helpless sound in his chest and kisses me again. This time, the kiss is hard and rough. He pushes me backwards, his heavy body pressing mine to the wall. Grinning, I trail my mouth down his throat, pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple. His whole body flinches. I pause, then kiss his neck again.
He shudders in a breath. “Layla—” he groans, tensing against me. “Shit.”
A smile spreads over my face. It looks like Joshua Tran has a weak spot.
I suck his throat hard, getting the sensitive skin of his pulse between my teeth. He moans, actually moans in my ear, his mouth falling open against my cheek. “Jesus,” he mutters, his body sagging over mine. “Jesus — Christ.” He grabs my chin and forces my mouth back to his, kissing me hard.
“You have a Neck Thing,” I mumble against his lips.
“It’s one of the most common erogenous zones,” he says primly, tugging my top lip between his teeth. Heat sparks through me.
“It’s a nuclear button. I kiss it, and you explode.”
He grunts, flicking his tongue against mine. “Where’s your weak spot?”
“I don’t have one.”
He presses me even harder against the wall, which is a good thing, because I think I might collapse without the support. “Everyone has one.”
“My only weaknesses are bullets and beheadings.”
“I’ll find it,” he promises, kissing me again. I tip my head back, letting my eyes flutter closed as arousal floods through me. I’m so distracted that I don’t hear the footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Oh,” Luke says behind us.
I jump, turning to see my ex-teacher standing at the end of the corridor, his eyes wide. He glances between me and Josh. His mouth turns down in disapproval. “Sorry,” he says levelly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I open my mouth to say something, but no words come out. Luke settles his glasses on his nose and turns, heading back into the kitchen without further comment.
Josh presses one last open-mouthed kiss to my throat, then pulls away from me slowly. I stare up at him, my legs trembling. I want to reach after him; to twist a hand in his collar and yank him back down to me.
He’s silent for a moment. Swallows. Then, very slowly, he reaches out and runs his thumb under my bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of lipstick. My eyes fall half-closed as heat rushes to my skin.
He drops his hand and steps away. “Eh,” he says dismissively. “Six out of ten.”
My mouth falls open. He ruffles my hair and heads back down the corridor, humming under his breath.
I watch his broad back retreat, seething.
There’s no way that kiss was a six out of ten. The little weasel.
