Judy Hubbard - Our First Kiss

“We could go back to my place,” she achingly suggested as he slowly released her lips.

“Will you let me be the man?” He groaned, nibbling at her mouth, forgetting his resolve to push her away.

Despite the desire racing through her, she laughed at his tone, which quickly turned to a moan at his actions.

“Honey, you’re definitely a man.” To prove her point, she pressed tighter against him.

He whispered, “You’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry,” she shakily apologized, running her lips along his strong jaw.

“No, you’re not,” he accused with a smile.

She batted her eyes innocently. “I am, truly.”

His heart thudded against his chest, beating frantically in concert with hers. One hand ran down her back to her hip, anchoring her lower body against his.

“I’ve never met a woman like you.” He marveled while his other hand threaded through her thick locks, pulling her head back.

“And you never will again,” she promised, and he silently concurred.

“God, I love your hair.”

His hand fisted in the silky tresses as he imagined it sliding across his stomach while her lips and tongue caressed him. He grew harder as the welcomed image assailed his overheated senses.

“I’ve thought about cutting it,” she admitted on a sigh, her hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“Don’t. Don’t ever,” he ordered, finally pulling her lips back to his.

“I won’t,” she promised into his mouth.

For several long minutes, she was in heaven. For a few agonizing seconds, he surrendered. His mouth demanded nothing less than complete capitulation from hers, which she was happy to give for a few seconds before aggressively participating in their heated, carnal duel of lips and tongues.

“You are so beautiful,” he nearly growled as he forced his mouth away from hers.

“And you’re very handsome,” she reciprocated, partially opening her dazed eyes to gaze at him.

“You’re a hard woman to resist,” he reluctantly admitted as he sampled those sweet lips of hers once again for a few long moments.

“Stop trying,” she softly suggested. “Are you going to take me home?”

“Yes,” he readily agreed, slowly releasing her.

He was damning his soul to hell, but so be it. He held out his hand to her; she gladly took it, and they walked out.

* * *

Thank the Lord for the ride home in the car. It afforded him time to come to his senses, cleared his head and stopped him from making a monumental mistake. Marcy was special, and she deserved a hell of a lot better than he was able to give her. He had promised himself and her brother that he wouldn’t hurt her, but if he did as his body cried out for him to do and made wonderful love to her tonight, he would be on course to do just that.

Marcy turned her head to stare at Nathan’s intense profile. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Uh-oh, he was thinking, and instinctively, she knew she wouldn’t like the conclusion he had evidently come to.

Finally, the car stopped outside of her apartment. He helped her out, and they walked through the cold night air into the building. The ride in the elevator was silent, confirming her earlier suspicion that he was rethinking his decision to stay with her tonight. They got off on her floor, and she unlocked the door and stepped inside waiting for him to do the same.

“I’m not coming in, Marcy.” He proved her fears to be correct.

“But, I thought...” Her voice trailed off.

“I know.”

“The drive gave you time to think, didn’t it?” She smiled slightly despite her obvious disappointment.

“Yes, thankfully,” he admitted.

“Why thankfully?” she murmured, debating whether or not to make him forget his newfound resolve.

“We’re moving way too fast,” he remarked, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from touching her, and she smiled at his actions. She doesn’t miss anything.

“Yes, we are moving fast,” she agreed.

“That’s not what I expected you to say.” He somberly studied her gorgeous face.

“Maybe this is.” She paused before continuing. “We’re moving fast but not too fast. I’m not trying to pass some time with you Nathan. I don’t want a brief affair,” she confessed.

“I’d be disappointed if you were or did.”

A brief affair was all he had to offer, and it wasn’t what he wanted with her. She desired stability, permanency and roots—none of those things had a place in his life right now, which is why he had no place in hers.

“What are you thinking?” She leaned against the door and smiled at him thoughtfully. “What do you want, Nathan?”

He remained silent as he pondered her question. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell her what he wanted; it was that he didn’t dare. He wanted her—not just for a night but for dozens of nights, endless nights.

“Good night, Marcy.” He valiantly fought not to kiss her and somehow succeeded. Quickly turning, he walked toward the elevator.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she called after him, and he turned to somberly face her.

“I know,” he agreed before the elevator doors closed.

“Damn,” she whispered as a smile played about her lips. She didn’t understand why he was bent on ignoring the attraction between them, but she was just as adamant that he wouldn’t succeed. “This makes two times, and it’s the last time I allow you to walk out on me, Mr. Carter,” she promised with a determined smile as she closed the door.

* * *

Two days later, Natasha walked down the aisle and married Marcy’s brother. Marcy had never seen either of them look happier and had never been happier for them. Natasha had been a beautiful bride in the dress Nicole designed. The tiny waist accentuated her figure; the full skirt was reminiscent of southern belles, and moved as though it was a part of her. Satin bows trailed down the back of the gown. Her shoulders were left bare. Her hair was pinned up, and a crystal tiara was the crowning glory, attached to a cathedral-length veil.

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