Page 44 of Now That It's You
“It would be. But I still want to do it. Just once, to know what it’s like.”
He tried to think of what to say. Something flippant to make her laugh or something profound to make her feel.
He was still thinking about it when he felt her hand on his cheek. He reached for her then, forgetting all his hesitation as her lips met his in the darkness. Her mouth was as soft as he’d always imagined and she tasted like sunshine and white wine, even though he didn’t think she’d had anything to drink. He drew his free hand up to cup her face, marveling at the silkiness of her skin, the soft whimper in the back of her throat, the fact that he was really here kissing Meg—Meg, for crying out loud.
When she ended the kiss, he had to bite back a scream of frustration. Her breath sounded faster in the darkness, and her grip on his fingers was so tight he wondered if she remembered she was touching him.
“So that’s what it’s like,” she whispered.
He laughed, his voice echoing off the walls, and he hoped no one walked by right then and heard them.
“That’s what it’s like,” he said.
“It was different than I thought,” she said. “Sweeter.”
“You thought I might be the type to shove you up against the wall and have my way with you?”
“Jesus.” Her sharp intake of breath told him he’d shocked her, but before he could apologize, she was whispering again.
“Yes. I’ll admit it, that’s always how I imagined you.”
“You imagined me?” The thought intrigued him.
“I don’t mean when I was with Matt,” she said, her words soft and rushed. “I just meant since the night on the sofa.”
“Right,” he said, not wanting to admit he had a different definition of always.
From the first moment I met you . . .
He considered asking her about that Thanksgiving night three years ago. Had she felt something, too, or was it all in his head?
“We should probably get out of here,” he murmured, wishing he could do anything but that. Wishing he could stay here forever.
“You’re right. Kendall has probably sent out a search party by now. How long have I been in here?”
Not long enough, his brain telegraphed, but instead he answered, “Ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Wow. You move pretty fast.”
He laughed. “Me? You’re the one who kissed me.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
“Damn straight.”
“Well, in that case, this was the best kiss in a cleaning closet at a funeral that I’ve ever experienced.”
“Likewise.”
“I’m going to slip out now. Maybe give it a few minutes before you leave?”
“You don’t think it would be a good idea for someone to spot us ducking out of a closet together at my brother’s memorial service?”
“Probably not. Especially with my lipstick smeared all over your mouth. Here, I think I have a tissue somewhere—ew, wait, that one’s used.”
“It’s fine,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were still tingling, and it seemed like a damn shame to remove any traces of the best kiss he’d ever had.
She took a deep breath and let go of his hand. “Okay then,” she said, stuffing her feet back into her shoes and gaining a few inches of height. “Thank you, Kyle. I feel better now.”
