Today’s First Kiss Friday featured guest is Sophia Knightly, author of contemporary romance suspense Wild For You. Welcome Sophia! Here’s the first kiss between Marisol Calderon and Clay Blackthorne.
“What the hell—” he roared.
“You!” she yelled and pushed his shoulder.
Clay teetered and reached for Marisol to steady himself, but she shook him off and they both toppled to the ground. Braced on his elbows above her, Clay’s infuriated face hovered a few inches from hers. “Why did you do that?”
“You scared me!” she cried.
“I only asked you to read the message,” he muttered, staring at her mouth.
Her heart pounded. “I thought you were the stalker! Did you send those roses?” Of course he hadn’t, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say as she licked her lips nervously.
“What do you think?” His blazing eyes bored into hers and then returned to gaze at her moist mouth.
“I guess not.” Her breathing turned shallow and erratic when she saw the blatant desire in Clay’s midnight eyes. Stay right there, she ordered silently, savoring the heavy weight of his body pressed against hers. Breathless, she didn’t move a muscle when his callused thumb stroked her cheek.
“I’m sorry I stomped on you, but your deep voice startled me,” she whispered, wondering if he could hear her heart beating wildly beneath him.
Kiss me, she urged silently, gazing into his eyes.
“It’s the only voice I have. By now you should be familiar with it,” he said gruffly, easing onto his side and bringing her with him. He cradled her body and slanted his mouth over hers without further hesitation. Marisol wrapped her arms around his neck and melted into the kiss, welcoming the pressure of his velvet soft lips on her mouth. She closed her eyes and sighed, as he held her face steady and made love to her mouth, tasting her thoroughly, deliberately. A sweet ache built inside her as she writhed under Clay’s solid weight, inviting his tender assault.
Marisol thrust her fingers in his hair and returned his hungry kisses, vaguely aware of the groceries scattered around them and the fact that her skirt had risen indecently. She was conscious only of his hard-muscled chest resting against her ultra sensitive breasts and his jean-clad thigh wedged between her bare legs. Clay’s firm hand stroked her from nape to buttocks, learning her curves as he kissed her with bold intent. When she felt the thick evidence of his arousal pressed against her thigh, she closed her eyes and moaned, lost to everything but him and the sexual heat he radiated.