Page 62 of Almost Perfect
The hand that had been holding mine found my face and tilted it up just slightly, and then he kissed me. One strong press, another, and I opened to him. He groaned, a rumble so earthy and delicious, I echoed it. The gentle coaxing shifted immediately into a hungry, dizzying exchange of sensations.
After a few minutes of truly mesmerizing kisses, he moved from my mouth along my jaw, until he reached my ear.
“The different is very good. I love this dress. And I cannot wait to see these tattoos.”
His hand on my back slipped past the edge of my dress and caressed my sides, gently brushing along my ribs.
We were plastered together now, but I wanted him closer. Need and desire spiraled through me, along with a liquid heat that might melt me right there. His hands felt so good on me, but I wanted to feel him. I wanted the warmth of his skin under my fingers.
Before I could act on that, he placed a kiss to my temple and released me, that hand at my back making a slow slide along my body before letting go.
“See you at breakfast.”
And with that, he was gone.
He’d shocked the expectations right out of me with that kiss.
He might say he wanted simple and nice, but that was exactly what Bridget Jones was talking about after she kissed Mark Darcy and she said nice boys don’t kiss that way.
Evidently, nice boysdidkiss that way. They kissed that way and touched that way and said incredibly sexy, promising things that way.
And then, they left.
* * *
Jenna picked up on the second ring. “You’re calling me, so it must be really good or really bad.”
I laughed and scrubbed a hand over my clean face. I’d ditched the dress and gotten into comfortable clothes, removed my makeup, and worked on reconstituting my internal organs after Wyatt liquefied me.
“I went out with Wyatt.”
“Yesss. That’s my girl. How was it? Wait, you’re calling me right now?”
I could hear the letdown in her voice at the end of that sentence. “Yes. He kissed my face off and then left.”
The intake of breath on her side echoed my own frustration. “Why? Why did he leave?”
“He’s old-fashioned, and we just barely started even acknowledging that we like each other. I’m not upset or even surprised he left. It was more the heat and the kiss.”
My voice sounded shaky and a little weak. Not a complete shock since I was genuinely still reeling from the night, and especially that last encounter.
“Ooo, okay. I like this, and I approve. Probably would’ve been out of character for you to jump into bed with him anyway.”
I laughed because that was an understatement.
“But you don’t sound happy about this.”
I sipped some water, gathering my thoughts. If I scratched at the fluttering sensation when I thought about his touch, or his words, or the pretty darn smooth exit, I’d find fear underneath. Because what was rapidly becoming clear was that I wanted more of Wyatt. Yes, more kisses, for sure, but moreeverything. “I’m not sure what I am.”
“Hmm. Okay. That’s fine. And, actually, when I think about it, not a surprise.”
“It’s not?”
“No. Because you don’t really do this. So it makes sense you don’t really know how to feel.”
“When you say ‘this,’ you mean…”
She chuckled like she found me adorable. “A fling. A temporary feel-good engagement.”
