Kiss Me

Today is a special day, folks. It has been declared Official Kissing Day Blogfest. How could I not participate?

(btw: I am loving all these unofficially official holidays people have been coming up with!)

So I suppose I should post (one of) my favorite kissing scene from one of my books, yes?

Hmm. So many, many to choose from...

Okay. Considering I have decided that no matter how amazing White Like Ashes becomes it will never be one of my hopefully-someday-published books, I will post my absolute favorite kissing scene from it. It's slightly PG-13 though, so be forewarned. In it, Evan has just had a rather jarring encounter with Jesse, her ex-boyfriend, and is running to her current boyfriend, Robbie. The rest is pretty self-explanatory.

Robbie pulled the door open after two knocks. “Something wrong?”

I ran my fingers through my hair to hide how they trembled. “The usual. I just – need you.”

A slow smile spread across his face. He stepped back, letting me in, and closed the door behind me. I dropped my coat and keys beside the TV, trying my hardest not to look at him. It wasn’t just a release for him. It was – real. The eagerness on his face, the happiness – god, it almost killed me.

Eyes closed, I threw myself into his arms and kissed him. His hands slid under my shirt, tracing my back, outlining each rib. My bra snapped open and his hands dove upward.

“Evan,” he whispered. The way he said it – I forced my lips over his and pushed him toward his futon.

I pulled Robbie down on top of me, pulled off his zip-up sweater, put everything into drowning in him. He undid my belt, moaning, his lips hovering over mine. Any other girl would’ve been overcome with it all. Any other girl would’ve disappeared beneath him, become a part of it. But as he tugged my jeans down, I didn’t disappear.

Jesse.

Faster, harder. Leave me alone!

Jesse.

I threw my legs around Robbie’s waist. Block it out. Make it stop.

Jesse.

Jesse was in my room. God, he was so sexy, standing there in his boxers, smiling at me, mischievous and eager, excited and terrified. He walked toward me. Took my hands. Kissed my forehead, my nose, my throat. The spot on my collar bone just above my tank top. His hands around my waist, pushing me down onto my bed. Kisses, all over my stomach, my thighs, my lips. Then in so deep I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. Pain yet ecstasy pounding through my body, and his body on mine, his arms, the muscles in his arms, tracing them. God, he was so sexy. I wanted him, all of him, all over me, forever. I wanted him. I wanted him.

I wanted him to come when he said he would come. I wanted him to make sure I was okay after my dad’s funeral. I wanted him to stop by like he said he would. I wanted him to hold me with those arms, let me trace the lines of his muscles, let me cry. I wanted him. I wanted him.

Robbie exhaled, smiled, tucked his boxers back around his waist. He kissed me on the forehead, but the kiss didn’t echo at all. Just skin pressing against skin. He said something about getting ready for work. I nodded and pulled a tattered quilt over my body, watching him gather his factory uniform and slip it on.

“I gotta get going,” he said, bending down next to me. “The walk’s twice as long in the snow. Be here when I get back?”

I’m using you, Robbie. You shouldn’t want me here. “Okay.”

Robbie smiled and kissed me again, long and sweet. His hand lingered on my thigh, one of his fingers slipping through a hole in the fabric, and he moaned again. He stood, grabbed his work badge, and left.

I turned over and buried my face in his futon.