I swivel, leaning casually up against a supporting beam that once belonged to a stall. Or maybe it’s part of what’s holding this place up. I don’t actually know. I’m not thinking about beams or barns. I’m thinking about Cliff. And how he’s just a foot away.
“Can I kiss you, Rowan?” Cliff’s voice contains just a shade of doubt and uncertainty. I like that he’s asking me. That he’s not demanding or taking something from me. It shows just how much he truly understood what I just told him about my past experience.
My breath escapes me in a burning rush. The air snaps, as though it’s charged.
Cliff edges closer. So. Very. Close. When I breathe in, I can smell the rush of his delicious scent.
Say no. Leave. Leave now before this gets out of hand. One kiss and you’re done. That’s all it’s going to take. “Y-yes,” I stammer. “Y-you c-can.”
Cliff’s face is inches from mine. His breath hits my cheek, so warm in the chill of the air. Behind us, the fire cracks and pops. I couldn’t imagine a more romantic setting if I tried. I never thought about kissing Cliff until tonight. Okay, I never thought about truly kissing him in real-life until tonight. There might have been a tad bit of fantasizing before this, but fantasies aren’t reality.
There isn’t anything contrived about this. It doesn’t feel at all wrong. I already know that when our mouths meet, it isn’t going to be like anything I ever experienced. Yes, I’ve been kissed. But no, I’m sure it’s not going to be anything like I’ve ever felt before.
My eyes flutter shut, and my head tips back. I can feel Cliff’s warmth, but he doesn’t press himself into me. His nose brushes against my cheek, then his cheek brushes against mine. It’s rough and deliciously soft all at once. I shudder when his lips brush against my cheek. They’re slightly cold from the chill in the barn, but they linger there before brushing up to graze my forehead, and I can feel the warmth then. They skim over my nose, and a strange, wild sound escapes my throat.
Our bodies aren’t touching, but I want more. I want so much more. I want Cliff to really kiss me. To kiss me until I can’t breathe. To kiss me until I can’t think. To kiss me and crush me into the beam I’m standing up against. I want him pressed into me until I don’t know where I start or where he starts or where anything starts and ends.
I know my cheeks are flushed—as flushed and hot as the rest of me—by the time Cliff’s lips finally skim over mine. He’s gentle. He barely touches me at all. It’s a brush of lips against lips, and then he goes to pull back. I hardly classify that as a kiss. Before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and clasp his face and drag it back to mine. Our lips clash hungrily, searching, as natural as if we were both made just for this very instant.
How could I have gotten it so wrong before? I knew this would feel right, but I had no idea…
His lips hold a promise that makes every fiber of my being ache for him. I want to lean up against him. To feel every delicious hard inch pressed against me. I want his hands on me. I want my hands on him. I want us tangled up together. Here. In this barn. In the cold. I’m already tingling, and he’d keep me warm.
Cliff’s lips glide over mine. My hands fall to somewhere around his belt region. Except he’s not wearing a belt. I scrabble for a hold on something, digging one hand into his belt loop and the other into the curl of his pocket. My lips part beneath his, inviting him in. He’s gentle, but he’s also passionate. My entire body feels like it’s fully alive, burning with the brightest light and the hottest fire.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I let out a moan and melt against him. He’s delicious. His tongue sweeps over mine, caressing it and giving me just the barest hint at all the other skills it might have. I shudder and let out another whimper when I think about his tongue in other places.
Apparently, he’s thinking about it too, because his mouth leaves mine. While I’m panting, his wonderful, warm mouth descends to my neck, and his tongue licks a hot path there that literally leaves me weak in the knees. He suckles my neck until I’m a purring, hot mess. I’ve heard of the whole ‘putty in the hands’ saying. And it’s true. Because that’s what I am now. Putty. I want him to mold and shape me.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever really lived before, but I feel very alive now.” My cheeks heat up when Cliff’s lips pause, and I realize I said that out loud.
“I suppose that makes two of us.” His lips hungrily find mine again, and I respond with just as much eager starvation.
He devours me while my hands pretty much attack the zipper on his leather jacket and try to work it off his sexy, broad shoulders. His hands tangle with mine, and I realize he’s working on undoing the buttons on my coat as well. When Cliff gets it open, the cold air hits me all over, but so does the heat from his body.
My hands shake as I push his jacket all the way off. He does the same for mine. I start feverishly working at the button on his jeans after that while he goes to work on mine. We keep going, our mouths warring, tongues tangling, hands a frantic tangle of fingers, and items of our clothing falling and dropping around us.
I frantically try to tear
