Iris
Soft lips.
That was the only thing I could think.
His mouth had been pulled so tight, his jaw clenched firmly enough that I’d noticed a tick just in front of his ear, but when his lips met mine, they were gentle.
A brush that stole my breath.
My lips parted.
And then . . . he kissed me.
It was almost chaste, his hands staying at his sides, not coming up to tug me against his body, even though I would have gladly plastered myself against him. And his tongue stayed in his own mouth.
At least until my tongue did something it had never done before.
Well, not without coaxing and forcing myself to work up the courage to make the move.
Anyway, this time I didn’t need coaxing or courage or shoring up my spine to make the leap. Almost without thinking, it slid free of my mouth, darting lightly against his lips.
The change was instant and electric.
Arms banded around my waist, yanked me flush against his chest, trapping my hands between us. But I didn’t mind, not when it meant they were pressed against the hard muscles there, and I especially wasn’t crying about being close enough to have the man’s scent wafting up, surrounding me, soaking into my pores.
It was spicy and masculine, so much different than my own mix of floral and baby powder.
Not that I had a baby.
I just adored the smell of baby powder.
I hoped the man did, too.
My brows drew down, and I almost came out of the kiss with the realization that I didn’t know the man whose lips were currently pressed to mine, but then his tongue chased my own back into my mouth, tangling and teasing and ramping chaste up to hot, and I forgot about the fact that this was only the fourth person I’d kissed.
Ever.
Ever.
Frank. My parents. And now . . . this man.
Oh, God—
I was kissing a man, and I didn’t even know his name!
Panic swarmed me, and I yanked my head back, trying to shove out of his arms and completely unable to free myself.
“Let. Go,” I said, panting and completely aware of the fact that it was from the kiss, and not because it had been bad. But because I was kissing a man I didn’t know. I didn’t kiss men. Hell, I was too shy to even talk to men.
But here I was, in a bar.
In a man’s arms.
And I didn’t know his name.
“You have to let me go,” I said, wriggling in his hold, trying to free myself. I watched the beautiful man blink, deep pools of unfathomable dark eyes coming back into focus after a moment. “You don’t know who you’re kissing,” I continued blithely. “You don’t—”
His arms opened.
I stumbled back a step.
“I—” I shook my head. “I—”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, voice placid, face expressionless, eyes over my shoulder. “Not with you.” He pointed to the door. “You should go.”
Slice.
Rejection.
I knew that feeling intimately, had felt it frequently.
So, I didn’t cry or wither or let my face show how deeply that wounded. Instead, I bundled it up with the rest of the pain from my past and shoved it deep down. Then I bent to retrieve my purse, it somehow having fallen to the floor without me noticing.
Probably because even though I’d been kissing a stranger, the feel of his mouth, his lips, his tongue . . . were more incredible than anything I’d ever experienced with Frank.
I’d kissed just two men.
Not hard for the one in front of me to beat Frank.
Not only because Frank was a total jerk, but because Frank and I had been bumbling teenagers when we’d been together.
Sigh.
“Don’t worry,” I said, pushing Frank from my mind. “I’ll go.”
“Good.”
The short, sharp syllable made my filter disappear.
Or at least, that was the only reason I could think for my normally shy and locked-down nature to have poofed away like fairy dust, the next words out of my mouth being a total blurt.
“And I definitely won’t come back and drool over you all night again,” I snapped. “I certainly won’t sit at the bar for three hours and hope that you notice me. Because I get it. Beautiful men like you aren’t into dumpy, fat girls like me.”
His eyes shot to mine, going wide, gorgeous lips parting, but I wasn’t going to let him tell me to go again.
I spun for the door.
I was going to see myself out. I was going to forget about extending ridiculous invitations to dinner, about kissing gorgeous men whose names I didn’t know.
I’d been humiliated enough for a lifetime.
Frank had seen to that.
Now I’d seen to that.
Lifting my chin, I reached for the handle.
Then found myself being hauled back against a strong, broad chest.
“You’re beautiful. It’s not you—”
I snorted, shoving at his arm. “Okay, let me stop you before you finish that It’s not you, it’s me nonsense.” Another shove, which meant I managed to loosen his grip all of a millimeter before it banded tightly around my middle again. “I’ve got the picture. Let me flounce off with an ounce of my dignity intact, will you?”
“No.”
Cool.
Let me start off by saying I didn’t usually condone violence, but I’d been pushed to my limits, and this man, the one who’d given me the best kiss of my life—yes, it was only the best kiss of two total men, but I also didn’t have to be an idiot who’d only kissed two men to know that it still had been a really good freaking kiss—was holding me firm, wasn’t letting me escape my embarrassment—which had reached critical mass—and I snapped.
I tilted my chin down and bit him on the forearm.
Not lightly.
He cursed, arms falling open, and I shoved forward lurching for the door, grasping the handle and yanking it open.
The last thing I heard as I stumbled out of the office was the cursing cut off and his rumbling voice chase me down the hall as I fled.
“So, what time is dinner?”
I’d entered the bar chastising myself for being an idiot who left her purse behind, and I left that same bar, chastising myself for still being an idiot.
Albeit this time, one who’d left some of her dignity behind.
Three
Brent
I glanced down at my arm, at the two perfect crescents of teeth marks, and felt my lips curve up.
I shouldn’t be amused by the fact that the woman had just bitten me.
But, one, I’d had it coming.
And, two, I’d had it coming.
First, for kissing her. Even though she’d stood there under the mistletoe looking as sweet as a Christmas cookie—cheeks a little flushed, blue-green eyes darkening, lips parted, tongue darting out. She’d kissed me back.
But sweet girls like that didn’t kiss me.
They were scared of me.
I was a big, black guy. I was built, and my default expression was scowl, especially when I had to haul some rowdy fucker out of the bar. Brooke even liked to tease that my resting bitch face was more powerful than hers.
Still, I’d had the bite more than coming, and not just because of the kiss.
But because I’d let her think that I hadn’t wanted to kiss her.