Page 35 of Bourbon Bliss
“I told you, June Bug, I’m not a man who’ll push his human mating rituals too far. I know you’re going inside without me tonight.”
Hearing him use my favorite nickname did strange things to my insides. It made me feel warm and melty. But the gooey feeling warred with guilt over making the assumption that he’d only taken me out on a date for sex.
I glanced down. “I’m sorry I had the wrong impression.”
He touched my chin with his fingertip and brought my gaze back up to his. “Don’t be. We’re still getting to know each other.”
“If you’ve not already become aware, I think it’s only fair that I inform you of something.”
His brow furrowed and I’d never realized how intensely sexy that looked on a man. “What?”
“I’m not very good at this.”
“Not good at what? Saying goodnight?”
I shook my head. “Dating.”
He smiled, running the pad of his finger along my jaw. “I think you’re doing just fine.”
“Thank you. You as well. You’re clearly quite proficient.”
“At human mating rituals.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not sure I am.” He traced that magical finger from my forehead, down my temple, and tucked my hair behind my ear.
“Why not?”
“It’s our second date, and I haven’t kissed you yet. Or is it our third? Even worse.”
“Well, one could argue—”
He put his finger against my lips. “Yes, we could argue about whether we’ve had a date before tonight. But I’d much rather just kiss you. What do you think?”
Kissing on my front porch did sound appealing. My eyes traveled to his mouth. His lips were full, the corners lifting.
I nodded and he moved his finger from my lips.
My heart beat furiously. If not for my solid understanding of human anatomy, I’d have wondered if it could bruise itself against my ribs. My fingers and toes tingled, and I couldn’t take my eyes off George’s mouth. Those lips. That rugged square jaw and those dimples in his cheeks.
He brushed my hair back from my face again, tucking the other side behind my ear. What a mysteriously charming gesture.
Instinctively, I tilted my chin up, angling my face to better receive his lips against mine. Judging by his incoming trajectory, it seemed the optimal angle would be…
And then our mouths touched, and my mind went blank.
Soft, wet lips exerted gentle pressure against mine, and my eyes fluttered closed. His hand moved around to the back of my head, his fingers sliding through my hair. A tingling sensation spread across my skin, intensified by the scratchiness of his stubble.
Without conscious thought, I reached for him, letting my hands rest against his torso. My fingertips and palms discovered ridges of muscle beneath his shirt. The combination of rough and soft—hard and warm—made a shiver race down my spine and heat pool in my core.
He sucked my lower lip into his mouth and traced it with his tongue. I clutched his shirt, drawing him closer, and his grip on me tightened. Our tongues touched, first just the tips. Then they slid against each other in a long, languid stroke that practically made my knees buckle.
A low noise vibrated in his throat, a hum that was nearly a growl. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my much smaller frame, enveloping me.
There was skin and movement and the scruff on his jaw. Warm tongues and wet mouths. It was all so overwhelming. Drowning me in a flood of sensation.
His grip on my head loosened as he gradually drew back. I tried to follow; I wasn’t ready to stop kissing yet. I felt him smile against my mouth before kissing me again. One last breathtaking, soul-stealing kiss.
