Friday, February 8, 2013

Valentine's Day Post 3

“Your cut’s worse, and I don’t want you bleeding on my only shirt when you kiss me.”

“Your only shirt?” I can’t stop myself from tugging on the hemline and brushing her skin. I pull her closer, just a few inches of air between us. My heart rate ratchets up a notch. Kiss her? That’s the stuff of dreams, not dirty no-tell motels. Still, the temptation…her curves, her lips… “Who says I’m going to kiss you?”

“Me.”

Smiling and peeking at me through her eyelashes, Zoe crouches to fish through the cabinet beneath my butt for the first aid kit. Her fingers slide across my knee when she puts the case on the counter. Her hip, and the cotton of my shirt, brush the inside of my thigh when she turns back to me. God, sitting here and not pulling her to me is going to stop my heart—again.

“This is going to sting,” she says, and pats an alcohol soaked pad over the cut on my shoulder. I suck in a sharp breath, but that’s all.

“So…” I look into her eyes and fight the magnetic pull between us. “You wouldn’t feed me in the hospital when I was broken and bandaged, but you’ll play in my blood?”

“Zain?” Her eyelids dip, giving her a dreamy expression, but her voice is alive with fire.

“Yeah?”

She presses the gauze pad to my cut, and I can’t help but wince.

“Shut up.”

I snap my lips closed. We’re inches apart and I want her too bad to touch her. Zoe’s free hand rides up my thigh to the hem of my boxers, then skims the fabric and slides up my stomach and chest to my cheek. She’s so close all I see are her eyes, and I feel her breath on my lips. The distance, the closeness, is too much and not enough. I lift one hand from its tight grip on the countertop, and rest it on the curve of her waist, my last two fingers touching bare skin.

Her eyelids close in a slow fall. The tension in her hand increases as she pulls my face to her.
The first gentle brush of her lips is a feather-light electric shock. She inhales through her nose, and abandons my cheek to bury her fingers in my hair. I slide my hand up her back and my butt off the counter, too. We’re a tangle of arms and legs and hands that don’t know where to rest in a dingy bathroom, and the moment couldn’t be more glorious. I’m kissing Zoe Morgan!

The gauze falls to the floor when Zoe throws her other arm around me. The soft press of her breasts against my chest is enough to make me want to hold my breath, and Zoe to me forever.

Then, all too soon it’s over. We break apart at the same moment, both of us breathing hard. I twist a finger in the hem of my T-shirt where it brushes her hips, and she licks her bottom lip, red and little puffy from kissing me.

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