Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Our kiss gains strength. My heart tries to leap straight out of my chest as I cling to his body, our lips exploring one another’s with as much curiosity as there is hunger.
This isn’t a dream.
He tastes perfect.
Every bit of him, inviting. Every touch of our lips as we give kiss after kiss, soft and sweet. Each smacking of our mouths, like candy to our ears, intensifying.
I’m surprised by a teasing lick of his tongue.
I let mine out, inspired, and then our kiss achieves a whole new level of surprise as our tongues gently play.
Oh, fantastic, he’s a fucking great kisser.
Now I’ll never leave this photo booth.
Our heads tilt, gaining better leverage of each other. His tongue grows more adventurous, playing with mine as our lips continue to dance. Our breath joins the symphony between our faces, crashing and rising and falling.
One of his hands gently strokes down my back, then finds purchase at the top of my ass, where it gives a gentle squeeze. When his fingers curl around my ass, it feels possessive, like he’s claiming it.
Another prize, his for the taking.
I respond by clinging to him tighter, overcome with a bursting, incorrigible thirst for him to keep touching me, to keep being greedy with me, to keep wanting me.
I’ve never felt more desired, nor more desirable. As we kiss, I wonder why I never allowed myself to feel this open and united with another person before.
What do I have to thank for this circumstance? The dark? The thrill of hiding from my friends? The forbidden fruit that dangles so invitingly from this gorgeous tree?
The addictive taste of his lips, where with each kiss, I grow more desperately in need of one more? The touch of his hands on my body, making me feel like a treasure that everyone on this island covets, but only Adrian possesses? The devotion he gives me, drawing me hopelessly into his control with no chance of escape?
This is not a dream.
I could kiss this man forever.
At once, we’re blinded by light. Exactly like a dream, both of us part and shield our eyes as we come out of the trance our kiss put us in, blinking rapidly in the brightness.
Vann’s face comes into focus between my fingers.
“Sorry,” he says, though I can see a hint in his eyes of how very not sorry he is. “I just … didn’t know where you went. Or why. Now both questions are answered.”
I’m still out of breath from our kissing. “Vann …”
“Didn’t mean to … interrupt or whatever. Sorry.” And without another word, Vann slips away, the curtain falling back into place.
Adrian and I look at each other, out of breath, our lips red and wet from our kissing, parted and hopeful.
But I think we both know the moment’s over. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I think I should—”
“I understand.” He takes in a breath, then lets it all out with suppressed frustration. “I wanna sit here and fight for you to stay with me, but … the last thing I wanna do is come between you and your friend.”
“Thanks,” I manage to say. “For understanding. For … being patient. You are so … surprising, Adrian Tyler.”
A spark of happiness seems to flicker in his eyes as he studies me. Then his lips spread into a smile. “Right back at you, Quin.”
What happened to our whole ‘just friends’ thing?
All our words have flown out the window.
If I don’t leave now, I never will.
I slide off his lap, for a second pained by the feeling of his hands slipping off of my body, gently part the curtains, then stop. I glance back at him. “I guess I’ll … text you later or something?”
He isn’t shielding his eyes. He just watches me, partly squinting, a ghost of a smile lingering on his face. “Sure, if you can.”
“Great.” I feel so fucking reluctant to leave. I just want to stand here at this curtain and keep staring at Adrian. Is part of me begging him to stop me? If he asked me to stay, would I? “See ya.” I turn away.
“There’s a thing tomorrow night …”
I stop, excited, and turn back to him. “A thing?”
“My little brother. He’s turning eighteen. My mom is throwing him a big thing on the beach, Sugarberry Beach, west end of the island where my childhood home is.” He leans forward and props his hands on his knees. “I’m not sure what time you were planning to head back to campus tomorrow, but if you’re still on the island after seven …”
“I’ll be there,” I promise him. “Text me the addy.”
“Will do.” He smiles.
And it’s all I can do to peel my eyes off of that face of his and leave the photo booth, where I’m sure I just burned a memory deep into my heart that no flimsy strip of photos from a machine could hope to capture.