#WildWednesday – more from Molly O’Keefe #FREE Snippets from Wild Child
This week’s snippet is the first kiss between Monica and Jackson. I don’t think you need much set up for this. Monica has a very complicated history with men and sex and hasn’t had intimacy of any kind for years because of it. Jackson however, slips past her guard and she decides to trust him.
She put a hand against his chest, over the pale blue shirt that made his eyes look like the sky on a hot August day. Beneath the cotton she felt the warmth of his skin, the tensile strength of his muscles, and beneath that, the heavy pounding of his heart.
When he stepped forward again, their bellies touched. The most intimacy she’d had in years.
“I don’t put on a show anymore,” she said. A warning to both of them. It was real pleasure for her or it was nothing. She was done pretending. Done manufacturing something for a man, leaving her with nothing.
“If you’re expecting—”
“Stop.” His fingers touched her mouth, his thumb pulling the flesh of her bottom lip down, revealing the soft inside. She tasted the salt of his skin, and the taste pierced through her chest, into her belly and lower, where it started a thousand small fires, a thousand little licks of flame. “Expectations make me angry. I don’t expect anything.”
And then he was there, his mouth against hers. His chest against hers. His arms, long and solid, swept around her, pulling her closer, and she was up high and hard against his body.
Despite wanting this, despite the flirting, her instinct, wild and desperate, was to push him away, put the distance back between herself and the rest of the world.
Mistake, she thought, her hands clenching the hard muscles of his arms, you are making a mistake. This was why she didn’t flirt with men, because flirting led to this and she so rarely liked this. It was too much, too close; claustrophobia loomed over her. It reminded her painfully of that part of her life when she didn’t have enough pride to see the choices hidden in the shadows backstage.
But then his hands, wide and smooth, slid up her back, to the neckline of her shirt, and slowly each of his fingers found its way to the edge of her shirt, and then under it. To the bare skin at the nape of her neck. Her knees melted like butter in a hot pan.
It was torture, waiting for each of those fingers. She couldn’t breathe, and when finally the last finger slipped under her hair, she gasped, her open mouth an invitation.
Holding the back of her head, he turned her, positioned her so when his tongue swept in, it swept in deep. She moaned in her throat, a purr, really, and she couldn’t even muster up any embarrassment.
Those fingers had unlocked her, pulled her loose, and now she stood, weak in his arms.
The Boys of Bishop Are Coming!
Wild Child October 2013, Preorder here!!
Never Been Kissed June 2014
Between The Sheets July 2014
Life. Not as it seems.