Page 6 of Wood Lessons
Fuck, she’s sweet, and I’m hers: hook, line, and sinker.
CHAPTER THREE
ANNA
Peter’s bruising gripshould scare me.This kiss should scare me.Yet, fear isn’t the dominant emotion running through my veins—wild excitement is.
This afternoon hasn’t gone at all like I expected from the wayward ducks on the road, to showering in Peter’s home, and now his teeth nibbling at my lips.Maybe I should be more careful about what I wish for because I’m not sure how many life-altering events I can handle.
Though, as far as first kisses go, this is better than I expected.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Peter whispers as we separate, but he doesn’t release me.“You’re so goddamn pretty.”
The compliment warms me from the inside out; usually people comment on my intelligence or how reliable I am—never anything physical.The logical, feminist part of me thinks that’s how it should be, but as a woman, it’s nice to hear that I’m attractive, too.
A nervous chuckle escapes as I search for something to say before settling on the obvious.“Um, thank you...”
“But you didn’t like it?”He guesses as my sentence fades.
“No, I did!It’s just...”I lift my hands helplessly, confused.“How do people usually respond after a kiss?”
“You don’t know?”Curiosity instead of judgment coats his tone, but my brain still scrambles for a way to brush the question off.It’s not something I like to share—that I’ve never been kissed.
Throughout high school I assumed it would eventually happen, then I graduated and pinned my hopes on college.Neither panned out, and as I slowly became a hermit, any chance of my kissing status changing floated further and further away.
Silence lingers between us, turning awkward.Dropping my hold on his arms, I attempt to put space between us—to form an invisible layer of protection around myself—but Peter refuses to let go.Resigned, I decide to take the plunge and lay my cards on the table.
“This was my first kiss.”
His hands flex on my waist, and I catch a glimpse of kindness in his eyes.“Why’s that, baby?”
“I’m not the most outgoing person; it’s difficult for me to make friends.Not the greatest dynamic for guys wanting to know me—let alone, kiss me.”My jaw clenches at the explanation; I hate admitting to failing at something everyone else seems to have mastered.
“It’s not your fault—being shy isn’t an excuse for a man to ignore you.In my mind, it just means I need to work harder to make you feel comfortable enough to trust me with your thoughts and feelings.”
The earnest sentiment sends butterflies fluttering around my stomach; his sincerity leaves no doubt that he means it.“Well, you’re the exception, though I’m not sure how much I made you work before our kiss.”
