FLIPPING BLINDLY through a book on Paris, my bucket list travel destination, I bite my lip and try not to glance back to see if Michael is done reading. I feel like the eclair is churning in my stomach, sour and thick. I’ve never let anyone I know read what I’ve written and while I haven’t enjoyed having strangers online trash my story, I can deal with that. They’re strangers.
But if Michael tells me it’s horrible, that’s going to hurt. Which is why I haven’t let Luna read it. I don’t want her to give me a look of pity and say, “Oh, sweetie, it’s good,” when she’s clearly lying her ass off.
Michael moves up behind me. I immediately sense his presence and whirl around to beg him to go easy on me. I open my mouth to speak but he doesn’t allow me to say anything.
His hands are on my cheeks, thumbs caressing my skin. “You’re an amazing writer, Dani,” he murmurs. “You have great pacing and characterization and evocative descriptions and emotions.”
“I do?”
He nods. “Just one critique. That was not a first kiss, Cookie.” His thumb brushes over my lower lip. “That was a footnote.”
My skin feels warm where he’s touching me and I’m almost overcome with relief that he seems genuine in his compliments. I don’t even mind the critique because he’s right. One hundred percent right. The kiss made me panic. I couldn’t think of any way to describe it that didn’t seem ridiculous. Kissing is nice enough. But I’ve never been destroyed by a kiss like they are in the novels I read. Or the way I want Divine to feel in the story I’m writing.
I’ve never felt caught up, carried away to the point where I’ve forgotten where I am or what my name is.
Until Crew earlier tonight, that is.
“Really?” I whisper. “You think I’m a good writer?”
“Not good. Amazing,” he corrects, his deep brown eyes sweeping over my lips. The pad of his thumb rubs over my mouth in a teasing, tantalizing circle. “But that kiss, Dani. You have to give them more.”
“I don’t know how,” I admit.
His eyes are hot as he studies my face, seemingly taking in every detail. His thumb brushes over my lower lip in a tantalizing circle almost as if he is in awe. As if this moment is one he wants to imprint on his memory. I want to do the same. Remember this anticipation, remember Michael’s gaze.
“How about some inspiration?” he asks.
Then he lowers his head.
Our mouths meet and I feel like I’ve touched a live wire. Electricity licks along every nerve ending sending currents of heat and need to my core. He kisses me softly, pressing, then retreating, then pressing again for longer, then retreating. For several seconds, he just kisses me sweetly, one hand cupping my face. He nips my bottom lip, then licks the tip of his tongue over the spot.
God, I want more. More of…everything. I want to truly taste him. I wanted his mouth everywhere.
“More,” I whisper against his mouth.
He lifts his head. Again he studies my eyes.
What does he see in there? Desire for sure. But does he see that it’s easy for me to trust him, to allow myself to be swept along by our passion?
He must. “I want to give you everything,” he says.
Heat spikes in my inner thighs. I reach up to wrap my fingers around his wrist, squeezing. I nod. “Yes. Give it to me.”
He gives a soft groan and kisses me again. But this time, he drags his mouth from my lips to my jaw. He kisses along the curve to my ear. “I don’t even know if you know what that means.”
“If I don’t, it doesn’t matter. I trust you,” I say breathlessly.
“Fuck,” is his muttered response as he kisses down the length of my throat.
My entire body lights up. It feels as those presses of his lips settle between my legs and my clit throbs as he licks over my collar bone. I want his tongue there. Between my legs.
“You taste so fucking good,” he says against my skin. He kisses back up to my mouth, this time pressing harder when he takes me, sliding his tongue over my lower lip. When I sigh, he strokes his tongue along mine. “So fucking sweet, Cookie.”
My nipples tighten, my panties get wetter, and I feel my back arch. I need more.
“Michael. Please.”
This time his groan is more of a low growl from his throat. He backs me up against the bookcase, and presses into me with his whole body.
His whole, hard, hot body. He looks down at me again, his expression both aroused and bemused. “This is just a kissing scene, remember?”
Damn it. I wish it was a he-gives-me-an-orgasm-scene. “Right. Inspiration.”
“Use all five of your senses, Dani. Tell the reader how I feel to you.” He sweeps his tongue inside my mouth and presses his hard thighs against mine.
“Hard,” I breathe when he pulls back. “You feel hot and hard.”
Michael gives a soft moan. “What do you hear?”
I tilt my head, giving him access to my neck. He lavishes kisses on me.
I understand his sensual little writing exercise. “The sound of our breathing, the desire in our voices. You smell like leather and God, it’s so sexy, Michael.”
“You smell like coffee and a light floral perfume,” he murmurs. “And you taste like sugar and temptation. I want to taste you all over. See if the rest of you is as hot and greedy as your mouth.”
“I want that.” Goosebumps trip down my neck and tighten my nipples. His hand trails over that same path, as if he knows. His calloused finger drags over the sensitive skin of my neck then cups my breast, sliding his thumb over my nipple, making my pussy clench.
“Yes, I definitely want to kiss and taste you here,” he says, circling the hard tip. He returns to my mouth, kissing me again as he plays with my nipple.
The pressure is both a relief and torment.
His tongue strokes mine as he kisses me deeply, the motion making my clit throb.
His hand slides down my side to my hip. He squeezes, then moves to cup me through my jeans, his big hand hot against my pussy. I know he can feel how hot I am. I shift my knees apart so he could touch more of me.
“And oh, yes, I will taste you here,” he growls against my mouth. “Deep and long. Take care of you until you scream.”
Without meaning to, I rock against his hand. I need more pressure right there, right now. “Please, yes,” I beg.
He lifted his head, breathing hard…
I’m clinging to the book rack behind me, weak in the knees, and fighting for air.
Until I’ve forgotten where I am or what my name is.
But I’m going to remember every detail of this kiss forever.
“We forgot the final sense,” he says, breathing hard. “What we see. You look beautiful, Dani. Flushed and pretty and perfect.”
He looks like my every fantasy sprung to life. But before I can say that he sucks in a breath and points toward the stairs.
“Now go upstairs and write that. In full detail. Write every single thing I did and said and every single thing you felt when I did it to you.”
Breathless, my panties wet, my nipples standing at attention beneath the absurdly tight T-shirt Nathan gave me, I nod. “Okay.”
“Right now, Dani. While it’s fresh in your mind.” Michael tugs me forward and spins me in the direction of the stairs. His hand drifts from my lower back to my ass, giving it a quick squeeze as he pushes me. “Go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I glance back. “But… I have to lock up after you.”
“I’ll handle it. I still have your keys. I’ll bring them back to you tomorrow.”
I debate for less than one second. I trust Michael. Besides, what is he going to steal, a Jack Reacher novel? A coffee mug? The empty bank bag?
“Thanks!” I say breathlessly. “You’re the best, Michael. The absolute best.”
At my words, he starts a little and the look he gives me is so intense, I pause. I suddenly want him to fuck me in the bookshop, bent over a velvet chair, staring down a row of hardcover gold foil-edged Shakespeare books.
That’s how good that kiss was.
And I think maybe he’s thinking that same thing.
But then he shakes his head a little, as if he’s clearing his throat. “Go,” he says, pointing again at the stairs. “Make magic happen.”
“Goodnight.” I blow him a kiss and run before I can change my mind. I pound up the stairs and throw open the door to my apartment.
“Can’t talk!” I say, blowing past Luna who is watching TV lying on the couch, a blanket pulled up to her chin.
She doesn’t answer and I realize she’s actually asleep, much to my relief. I don’t want to talk. I want to write. My fingers are itching with the urge to hit the keyboard and my thoughts are swirling.
I crack my knuckles and let it all flow out of me.
Twenty minutes later, I stop and lift my hands off the keyboard, staring at my screen. I just typed all of that without stopping once. It just spilled out of me.
But…that’s it. That was the kiss with Michael. My blood is pumping, my whole body is hot. Even hotter now that I relived it and wrote it all out.
I read it over again, finding myself squeezing my thighs together. God, my readers are going to love this.
But now I have to end this scene.
Argh! I really just want to call Michael and demand he come back here and help give me an ending.
I pick up my phone and text him.
I wrote the scene.
He responds immediately. It’s like he was waiting to hear from me and it makes me warm and melty.
How do you feel about it?
I debate how to answer that. I’m happy with it. My readers will love it and I feel like I broke through a barrier I’ve been dealing with. There’s nothing flat about this kissing scene.
But he also left me here all riled up.
Hot and bothered.
He texts back just one word.
Perfect
.
Perfect?! That’s perfect?
And mad at you because you left me like this.
He just sends me a winky face emoji.
So I send him a screenshot of my favorite vibrator.
His response takes a little longer this time.
Thank you.
I frown at the two words.
For what?
I was going to go to bed with images of me going down on you against that book rack. But I have something else to add to the scenario now.
I stare at that response for a very long time.
I don’t respond. I have no idea how to respond to that.
I go back to Divine and Sturgeon.
“Soon, my love, soon,” Sturgeon said, brushing her hair back from her face.
“Please, now. I need you.”
“The anticipation will make it that much sweeter. Trust me.”
My readers will hate being left hanging there.
Which is great.
That means they’ll come back for the next installment.
Oh…crap.
That means I’ll have to write the next installment. Which means it will have to be really good. And involve more than even this kiss.
Well, I hope Dr. Hughes meant it when he said he’s willing to help me with this.
With a wicked grin, I shut my computer down for the night.
But I don’t fall asleep before pulling out my favorite vibrator.
The only surprise is that it’s not just Michael Hughes that appears in my dirty fantasy. Crew McNeill is also there.
And a certain broody, bossy billionaire.
I might be in trouble.
