Judy Hubbard - Our First Kiss

“No, what?” At the moment, he didn’t know his name or how he was articulating at all.

“The best laid ones go to waste,” she responded with a smile. Silently vowing she would make sure his did. Impulsively, she walked over, cupped his face between her hands and kissed him again.

“Marcy, would you let me take the initiative for once?” he asked against her lips.

“I’d love to. Go ahead,” she ordered, pulling slightly back.

He shook his head and smiled down at her, “Would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?” What the...? Why had he asked that?

“I’d love to.” She beamed. “That was very nicely done.”

“Thank you.” He silently berated himself for his lack of discipline where she was concerned.

“What time?” Her eyes memorized every curve of his handsome face.

“Seven.” He committed himself to his unwise course of action, and unable to help himself, he began outlining her face with his fingertips. She shuddered at his touch.

“Should I meet you, or would you rather pick me up?” she docilely asked, breath coming in trembling gasps.

“I’ll pick you up,” he nearly whispered as the fingers of his other hand played with loose strands of her hair; it was so soft, so incredibly soft.

“How should I dress? Casual? After five? Elegant?”

She couldn’t believe she could comprehend let alone formulate questions. He was touching her lightly yet urgently. She was a quivering mass of jelly, yet somehow she still stood before him instead of sinking bonelessly to the floor at his feet.

“Elegantly,” he decided and said as his hands followed her example and cupped her face.

“Mmm, sounds nice.” She shakily smiled. “You take charge very well.”

“Thanks.” Intense eyes stared into hers, and he decided to take even more as he placed a hand behind her nape and pulled her irresistible lips to his.

Devastation. No other word described what he did to her with that kiss—or what she did to him. He could happily feast on those lips for an eternity. She gladly clung to his hard shoulders as his mouth continued to plunder. When his lips released hers, they were both breathing hard. She opened stormy eyes to see the echoing depths of his.

“Very well indeed,” she murmured. “That was a wonderful first kiss.”

He frowned. “That wasn’t our first kiss. New Year’s Eve was.”

“New Year’s Eve I kissed you.” She smiled impishly. “This is the first time you’ve initiated a kiss between us. I hope it won’t be the last.”

“If you recall, I kissed you back on New Year’s Eve—” he traced the outline of her trembling lips with his fingers “—and I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“You did?”

“Oh, you know I did,” he said and smiled.

“So did I. Let’s not wait so long before you kiss me again,” she softly suggested.

“We’ll see.” He touched her trembling lips with his fingers and then quickly removed them. “Good night, Marcy.”

“Good night,” she echoed. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

He glanced back at her trying to decide what he should do and what he wanted to do next—his head won out over want, and he determinedly opened the door and left. If he touched her again, he would be lost.

When her limbs would finally obey her commands, Marcy slowly retraced her steps and fell across the sofa. She let out her breath with a long, unsteady sigh. Gingerly, fingers touched her lips, and starry eyes closed as she remembered the feel of Nathan’s lips, body and his heart beating so close to hers.

She’d had a few crushes in her day but nothing close to what she felt for Nathan. She felt alive with him; he did things to her mind and spirit that she had never experienced before. They hadn’t known each other long, but he was the one; she knew it. Now her goal was to make him realize she was the one for him.

Chapter 3

The next night, Marcy and Nathan sat in the private dining room at one of the most expensive restaurants in town. Fresh roses of every imaginable color were scattered throughout the room in one arrangement or another. A bouquet of red ones sat beside her plate on the table. Soft, romantic music was being piped into the room, and the light was dim. The flames of candles danced in the table centerpieces.

She silently admitted that when he took charge, he took charge well. She had dressed as instructed in an elegant gold sequined floor-length gown with a slit up one side to her midthigh. The halter top left her back, shoulders and arms bare. Her hair was left down, cascading over her shoulders to her back in soft curls. The body of the gown fit her like a glove, accentuating her female curves in all the right places. Nathan wore a black designer suit that hung on him as if it had been especially made for him.

The evening passed in a perfectly wonderful blur. All she was certain of was that she was having a wonderful time with a secretive and oh-so-alluring man whose company she craved.

“How am I doing?” he asked as they finished their dinner.

“Excellently,” she vowed.

“Dance with me,” he commanded, taking her hand and pulling her up into his arms.

“Mmm, beyond compare.” She amended her previous statement as she rested her head on his sturdy shoulder, and her fingers entwined with his.

“I’m glad you approve,” he whispered against her ear.

She felt and heard him inhale her fragrance, and a smile curved her lips as the hand on her waist pulled her closer still. He ran his mouth softly up and down the crook of her neck, creating shivers of anticipation within her.

“I definitely approve,” she whispered.

“You have beautiful hair.” Raising his head, he slowly ran fingers through its length from root to tip several times.

“You have my mother to thank for that.”

“How so?”

“She refused to let anything touch my hair that wasn’t natural, which meant no chemicals at all.” She paused and laughed impishly. “That is until I took it upon myself to perm it.”

He smiled and asked, “What did your mother do?”

“Let’s just say Daddy and Dami had to protect me for a few weeks.” She chuckled at the memory.

“How old were you?”

“Twenty.”

“A mere baby who couldn’t possibly make such a decision,” Nathan teased.

“Mom will always think of me as her little girl.” Marcy sighed in angst, and they shared a comfortable laugh.

“Well, remind me to thank your mother next time I see her.”

“Mmm,” she said and sighed. “I will.” She moved a little closer to him. “You can thank me, too. Right now.”

She wanted him to kiss her, and she wasn’t disappointed as his mouth swooped down and seduced hers. He lingered over the kiss, savoring her different tastes and textures. She met the probing inquisitiveness of his lips, content just to have him go on kissing her; however, when his hot tongue darted into her mouth in a search for hers, she wanted nothing more than a molten combination of their bodies and hearts.

The kiss changed from gentle to hungry as he set out to plunder and destroy. Never before had a woman nearly caused him to take her on the spot with just a kiss, but he was close to doing just that with Marcy; every time he touched her, he lost his grip on sanity. His hands ran up her silky bare back, molding her, pressing her closer to his rock-hard length.

How had he ended up kissing her? He didn’t remember. His moves had been instinctive, automatic—as was his hunger for her; it was a hunger so intense that it nearly made him pull her to the floor, strip away their clothes and fuse his body with hers. What was she doing to him? What would she do if he didn’t continue to fight her and himself?