Page 35 of What I'm Looking For

She huffs out a laugh. The pink on her cheeks goes from rose to crimson.

Closing the space between us, my thumb feather-light along her jawline, I grasp for words. “It’s what your facesays, how it expresses the thousand things you feel. When you’re not hiding those feelings. But even then, this mask you put up makes me want to peel it away and get to know the person underneath.”

The need for her to feel what my words don’t seem to be communicating has me cupping her jaw with both hands and leaning in to brush my lips over hers. She shudders. I think it’s a good shudder, so I press my lips to hers, sliding my hands to cup the back of her head. I let the tip of my tongue run over her top lip. She gasps and pulls away slightly, but when I catch her gaze, her pupils are dilated, almost displacing the light brown of her irises. In slow motion, her mouth floats back to mine. I hold my breath. She nips my lower lip. And holds on.

Immediately, the kiss deepens. Her hands dive into my hair; my hands roam down her spine. A shiver moves through her again, and I pull her in, sucking on her lower lip.

She moans and presses her chest to mine, then kisses her way across my jaw to my earlobe, nipping lightly.

Arms still around my neck, she leans away slightly and tips her chin toward the obvious bulge in my shorts. “Well, I guess I can’t deny the attraction.”

I grin before nuzzling back in. “I’m notthatgood of an actor.”

Her arms tightening around me, she nestles up against me, and I kiss my way up her neck. She finds my mouth again and kisses me softly, then more hungrily.

My hands have a mind of their own, stroking every bit of skin they can reach. Her toned body and adventurous mouth are making me wonder how sturdy that bed is in Thoreau’s cabin and if he’d mind if we borrow it, when a high-pitched whoop startles us apart.

“Gross, dude!”

“Oooh, oooh, oooh, look at ’em go at it, man!”

A pack of teenaged boys howls past us on their bikes. Remembering what a little dick I’d been at their age, I cover Kate with my arms, where she shakes in my embrace.

“They’re gone, don’t worry,” I say softly in her ear, before craning my neck so I can see her face. “You okay?”

Pushing away from me, she bends over, hands on her knees, making a strange noise.

“Kate?”

She waves a hand in the air and gasps for breath. “Sorry!” She looks up, her face red, but her smile huge. “That was hilarious.”

I shake my head, enjoying the show way more than I probably should.

When her laughter subsides, she blows out a breath. “Hoo boy. I guess we should go find that ice cream you promised.” Her brows waggle up and down ridiculously, and she tips her head toward the cabin. “Unless you want to scandalize Thoreau’s ghost too.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. And blush. “It did occur to me. But I think I’d like some privacy for any further… activity.” I step back in and trace the line of her jaw. “Dairy Joy is about five miles away.” I pull an over-the-top pout that any acting teacher would call me out on. “I might need one more tiny kiss if I’m going to make it there.”

She reaches for my neck and leans, seeming to trust that I’ll keep her from falling. “I guess I can provide one more. But this ice cream had better be good if I have to work so hard to get it.”

“Believe me, it’s worth it. The place is almost as much of an institution as Walden Pond.”

I pull her close, kissing her until we’re both hungry for anything but ice cream. Unfortunately, the sweet creamy treat will have to suffice as a substitute.

For now.

KATE

As Will promised, we’re soon seated at a picnic table, cones in hand. Smooth sweetness chills my tongue while the sun warms my face. Heaven. “This is the best thing that’s happened to my mouth in some time.”

He stabs himself in the heart with a mimed knife and does a dramatic death scene.

“Kidding.” Of course. At the moment, I can’t think of anything that could compete with Will’s lips on mine. When he rights himself, I nudge his thigh. “Seriously though, maybe it’s the bike ride making me hungry, but this ice cream is amazing.”

He nods, brow furrowing. “Ya know, I think I’ve only ever ridden my bike here. But it is one of my favorites. Who needs crazy mix-ins? I’m all for plain vanilla in a perfect soft serve.”

He lifts his cone in salute, and I bump it with mine. “Maybe that’s why you like me.”

“What do you mean?”

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