First Kiss Friday
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Every Friday I share the first kiss from a book. This week it’s Burning Caine by Janet Oppedisano.
A couple falls in love while trying to prove the charred remains of a prized painting is a fraud.
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She closed her eyes. She was going to say no. Again. But I could be patient. I had to be if I wanted her in my life. Before I could tell her, ensure her she was safe in my hands, she opened her eyes and took hold of my tie. She pulled me to her, slowly, eyes fixed on mine, moistening her lips.
I slid a hand to the back of her neck and tilted my head to avoid the brim of her hat. “I have wanted to taste your lips from the night we met.”
When I pressed my lips to hers, my eyes slid closed. The blood pounded in my ears, drowning out the songbirds outside the truck and the gentle breeze rustling the corn.
As the pressure increased, our lips parted together, and my tongue met hers. Olives. She tasted of olives. I smiled in the kiss, while she moaned, low and guttural. My tongue pushed into her mouth, sliding along hers. We pulled apart slightly, then met again, her tongue sweeping along mine.