Page 11 of The Love Penalty
The air puffs between us, little white clouds that give away how fast my heart is racing.
It’s just the shock of nearly falling down the stairs. That’s all it is.
Except…
He still hasn't let me go, and my hands are still clutching his jacket.
I need to release my grip, thank him, step back—anything!
But I'm just standing here like a moron, breathing.
Breathing and… and wanting.
Wanting to…
My body acts before my brain can stop me, and I don't know if he leaned in first or if my eyes were saying something I didn't realize, but our lips are now suctioned together. His grip around my waist tightens as I tug on his jacket, pulling him that much closer. When his tongue skims my lower lip, I open my mouth without hesitation, inviting him in.
He tastes perfect, remnants of Coke and ketchup and salt. This heady combination of manly awesomeness and my favorite kind of food. I lash my tongue against his, all thought expiring as I'm caught in this uncontrolled moment.
His hand glides up my back, splaying between my shoulder blades while I tip my head, changing the angle of our kiss. I deepen it until I feel like I'm moving into his mouth, finding a happy home there.
He feels so good.
So hot.
My body starts to burn, to yearn, to?—
Oh fuck!
Like the screeching of brakes just before an accident, I get hit with?—
No, I can't think about that.
Fuck. Shit!
Stop!
I lurch away from him, reeling at what I've just let happen. Reeling at my own weakness.
Breaths punch out of me as I wriggle myself free of his grasp, then crack him across the face with my hand.
His head jerks to the side, and I quickly fist my fingers, tucking them into my chest and wincing while he tries to figure out what just happened.
“What the fuck?” He rubs his cheek, turning back to face me with an indignant frown. “You couldn't just say, ‘Stop, please’?”
“I—”
“What is wrong with you?” He takes another step away from me, flicking up his hand. “You leaned into me.”
“I didn't mean to do that.” I rush out the words. “I don't want to kiss you.”
He goes still, narrowing his eyes at me while he rests his hand on the hood of his truck. “Yes, you do.”
“No, I?—”
“You do.” He points at me. “You just don't want to admit it. But you fucking loved that kiss.”
“That's not possible.” Crossing my arms, I raise my chin and glare right back at him.