»»————- ♡ ————-««
Every Friday I share the first kiss from one of my books.
This week it’s a musician and a reporter trapped in a cabin with one bed.
»»————- Pride & Pancakes ————-««
His other palm swept to her cheek. The cold, indifferent veneer was shattered. Only warmth pressed to her skin, kindness radiating in his sapphire blues. “I’m all right. It will heal. I’ve done worse in the past.”
Beth began to shake her head but paused as she didn’t want to pull away from his hold. “Why? Why risk it for…for me?”
The pursed lips fell apart, Tristan blowing softly between them as her question whipped about in the cabin. Only the howl of the rising wind of the storm filled in the silence and it bore no answers.
“Because,” Tristan whispered as he bent towards her. His lips gently caressed the bare edge of hers as if he was prepared to turn it chaste should she react poorly. Closing her eyes tight, Beth launched up on her toes until both were ensnared in a proper kiss.
Warm as a mug of hot cocoa, softer than a down blanket, the taste and temptation of his lips sent shivers dancing down her spine. Beth gasped at the thrill invigorating her skin, but the noise caused Tristan to break off. Not far, the tip of his sharp nose crested against her cheek as he moved to lean back. To weigh what those fools just did.
Reporter. Her job was to interview him. Not get close to him. To learn of his past, yes, to know his wants and hopes in life, but not discover that he smelled of juniper bushes and tasted of heart-racing sunshine. This wasn’t right. This should never happen.
Beth drew her hand back through his hair, the thinning copper strands knotting around her fingers as she pulled him down into the abyss with her. The calm heat of the first kiss rampaged to a forest fire, his lips parting for a meeting of tongues. Tristan’s was amenable, even gentle as it touched Beth’s in a greeting of familiarity. Feeling as if her belly was on fire, she tasted deep of him and tugged his lip into her mouth.
The wounded paw slipped from her grip in order to grab her hip and haul her deeper into his kiss. She moaned at the thought of it rolling across her naked hills, tugging free her panties, and nestling between her thighs. Beth’s tongue flitted with the edge of the soul patch sprouting below his lip, tousling the sharp hairs to cause him to groan. As Tristan gasped, his head tipping back like he wanted her to nuzzle and kiss up and down his neck, her hand slid along his thin hips. Slowly, her fingers trailed to the belt, about to send them both down a path they could never come back from.
Ellen Mint Books 