Books, Writing

Apple Picking with PSL

After unending months of 90+ degree weather it finally FINALLY cooled to a heavenly 65. So I wanted to share a scene from PSL, my fairy fall fantasy novel, where the hero takes the heroine apple picking.

The temptation called to my hands, my fingers scooping around the taut flesh. I was about to yank it off when my cheeks burned and I realized that could be considered theft. “May I…?”

“Yes.” Scott laughed, seeming to enjoy my sudden outburst of thievery. “Please.”

Without pause, I cracked the apple off its branch, a long stem prodding from the top. Using my sweater, I buffed it off and took a bite. Tartness seeped down my chin, the sting of a real wild-grown apple tugging on those heartstrings of nostalgia. In rapture, I nibbled nearly down to the core. The first sting faded to a sweetness hiding inside, my entire mouth swimming in autumn delight.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice wafted behind my ear. I spun, memories of the old farm I visited as a kid fading. Instead, I found the gorgeous man standing barely a step away. As I watched, he lifted his own apple up and took a greedy bite. A line of juice dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Before I could point it out, Scott slicked his thumb along it and licked it off with his tongue. A rather dexterous tongue, I’d like to add. Not that I was taking notes or anything.

His eyes caught me, and he extended his apple, “Would you like some?”

“That seems…rather intimate,” I fumbled, trying to not wonder how his lips tasted. Would they be as tart as his quips, or would that secret sweetness linger on them?

“Is that a no?” he asked, the smirk going strong.

With my brain locked in a corner and my libido in full command, I took his apple and then a bite. It wasn’t until my teeth chomped down that I realized I should have done a sexy one. Which isn’t something I know how to do, but going hardcore at an apple can’t be it.

Not until the apple’s white flesh slipped down my throat, did I take the time to taste it. This one was sweeter than sugar and riper than my pick. I felt the same juice slide down my chin, my palm cupping to try and catch it before it stained my sweater.

A nimble thumb beat me to it.

Scott curled his palm under my chin while his thumb swept from the tip of my mouth down. In doing so, he raised my eyes to his. They were a still pond, clear and crystal on the surface, but with depths no one could predict. All the while, his thumb continued to stroke the same path. The apple tumbled from his hand, bounding in the grass, as I reached for him.

He attempted the same, causing my palm to cup his elbow while he found my waist. Heat washed across my face, emanating from that single, tender thumb stroke. All the while, those sculpted, plush lips taunted me. Slightly parted, I couldn’t escape the glisten from where his breath drew free.

In a dream, I floated across the ground, our bodies pressing closer together. One taste. That’s all I wanted. Would that be so bad?

Scott’s striking eyes closed, his mouth parting. As he leaned down to meet me, the warm silk of his lips brushed over mine.

Thunder shattered the sky.