The F-Word

Awful idea.

Jesus.

It’s a wonderful idea, because it puts her back against my front.

My dick against her ass. Her sweet, round ass.

So now it’s my turn to step away. I know that. And it’s what I intend to do—but somehow, some way, I close the last millimeter of space between us instead

And Bailey—Bailey is turning towards me, lifting her face to me.

I dip my head. Just a little. I don’t kiss her. I just dip my head and her eyes widen and I slip my hand over her cheek, over her jaw, and then I gently run my thumb over her mouth.

I bend closer and now I can smell her.

She smells like lemons.

No. Like flowers.

I don’t know much about flowers, but I think of the delicacy of the scent of the wildflowers that grow on that piece of hilly land I walked today.

That’s what Bailey smells like.

Okay. Enough. I really will step back this time—but she’s swaying towards me.

It’s the shoes. It has to be the shoes. I’ll steady her by clasping her waist.

Her hips.

Better still, I’ll steady her by making sure she’s leaning on me all the way, God, all the way, and she is. She’s damn near plastered against me and I shift my weight and now there’s not any space between us at all, and it’s only logical that I slowly, slowly lower my head to hers. I can see that her eyes are half-shut, that her lips are slightly parted, and the next thing I know, my mouth is on hers.

Somebody groans. Is it me? It must be, because somebody else is making a sound that can only be described as a little moan—and that somebody is Bailey.

“Matthew,” she says in a broken whisper.

“Hush,” I tell her, and her hands rise, slip up my chest to my shoulders, and either I lift her into me or she raises herself into me, and when I kiss her this time, I don’t hold back.

I kiss her hard and deep.

And I am lost.

Her taste fills me.

Sugar. Cream. Strawberries. She’s the dessert we had a couple of hours ago, only twice as sweet, as smooth, as delicious.

You know those books where they talk about the earth shifting under your feet? No, I don’t read that stuff but my sister does, always did, and okay, maybe I took a peek at a couple of those books when we were in our teens and…

And, the point is, the earth shifts.

There’s never been a kiss like this before. I’m certain of it. It’s a kiss that starts off honeyed and then goes hot, but the honeyed taste is still there, still amazing, and I want more.

Bailey gives me more.

Her arms go around my neck.

She moves against me.

I press her back against the door.