Page 54 of Late Bloomer
I reel back, eyes wide and frantic. I think there’s a very real chance I’ve totally misread this.
“I was about to beg you to help me do the flower competition,” I push out. “But I’m, uh, sorry I kissed you last night.” I am so lost in the direction this conversation took, and I have no idea where to go from here.
Opal’s jaw hangs open. “You’resorry?”
“Yes. I mean… Yes, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I kissed you without, erm, asking.”
Opal is silent, staring at me with those big blue eyes.
I blow out a deep breath through my mouth, making my lips flap as I scan the ceiling for words. “I’m sorry I, er, threw myself at you. I don’t usually make a habit of… randomly…” I wave my hand around.
“Sticking your tongue down a girl’s throat?” Opal offers.
My eyes bulge out of my head like a cartoon character. “Well… shit.”
This is truly my waking nightmare.
I stand too, doing an embarrassed twirl around the room before planting myself in front of her. Her anger is replaced with a skeptical look, a sharp glint in her wary eyes.
“Sounds like my technique was lacking,” I say, twisting the hem of my shirt. “Guess I need to apologize for that too.”
Which is rather devastating seeing as Opal’s technique left my stomach swooping all night as whispers of her lips against my mouth invaded any dreams I managed to have.
“So, I guess I’m sorry for pretty much everything,” I say. “For randomly kissing you and not asking first and also apparently slobbering on you and I want you to know it didn’t mean anything and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable because I’m aware of all the—”
“Pepper?” Opal steps forward, pressing the index finger of one hand to my lips, and using the other hand to grab mine.
My eyes fix on where I’m touching her, unable to fully process what’s happening.
Opal slowly pulls away her finger from my mouth, hand ghosting down my body. She reaches out, gently plucking the sprig of flowers poking out of my jeans pocket. Her fingers brush against the bare skin above my waistband, and we both suck in a breath. Body tingling, she presses the flowers into my palm, closing our fingers around it.
“Pepper,” she repeats. She’s staring at our hands too.
I lick my lips. “Y-yeah?”
“Did you like kissing me?” she asks. Quietly. So quietly, it could be a fantasy of her asking.
I move my head with a jerky movement, eyes finally pulling away from our hands to her face. Is it my imagination, or does she sway a millimeter closer?
“Yes,” I whisper. Then, “Did you like kissing me?” just as softly.
A massive grin breaks across Opal’s mouth, and I realize how sick I am of talking. I want her. I want to learn the sweetness of that smile. Make it a core memory.
I step forward, closing the space between us, our clutched hands pressing between our chests, my free hand darting out to grab her belt loop, tugging her closer still, hips flush against mine. With a smile still on her face and enough slowness she could pull back, I press my lips to hers.
And Opal melts.
Her arm snakes around me, knotting her hand in my hair,her tongue sliding out, licking my lips, electrocuting my blood. I feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the curves of her full and soft breasts pressed against me.
If our first kiss shocked me, this one rewires my entire system. She teeters between shy and frantic—angling the kiss so it deepens, rubbing her tongue against mine, dragging her fingers from my hair down my neck, pulling me against her as if we hadn’t already obliterated the pretext of space.
This kiss runs like a fever through me, hot and dangerous, leaving me shaking.
We finally come up for air, untangling and taking a step away from each other. Opal’s cheeks are crimson. I’m sure mine match.
“What is happening,” I whisper, utterly dazed.
Opal shakes her head, chest heaving as she stares at me with wild eyes. She traces her fingers over her lips, and I feel an echoing tingle on my own as I watch the gesture.
