Tuesday, March 4, 2014


What's your favorite part of a romance? I personally believe there are a lot of moments that are crucial to a great love story--the intro of hero and heroine, the first moment of awareness, that first electric touch. But my absolute favorite part in a romance is probably the first kiss.  There's a lot hanging on that kiss.  For it to be just right, it has to burst with chemistry while still being emotionally satisfying for the reader, and it has to engage all the senses.  It has to be memorable.  But most importantly, it has to change everything for both characters without actually saying those words out loud.  Through action, it has to be clear that this is the last "first kiss" the hero and heroine will ever have.  So it better be a doozy. :)

From the age of twelve when she'd stolen her first kiss with her seventh-grade crush, Nikita had loved the art of kissing. And it was an art. Some were sweet and wooing, filled with flowers and violins. Others were practiced and smooth, as open a seduction as a roaring fire and Barry White crooning in the background. But Kyle’s kiss was unlike anything she’d ever experienced—a free-fall into chaos. Madness. Danger. And so ravenous it swallowed her whole.

She couldn’t get enough of it.

Their nonstop cutthroat rivalry had always been laced with a sensual jousting that had never failed to set her panties on fire, but that’s all it had ever been. Teasing, feinting. Attack and retreat with no letup on the tension, until there were times when she’d wanted to scream in frustration. Maybe that was why her mind now reeled at the feel of Kyle’s mouth on hers. Of course she had imagined what it would be like, but in her heart of hearts she’d never thought it would happen. It was as though they had an unspoken agreement that if they took this one last step, everything would change. Seas would dry up. The sun would fall from the sky. The galaxy would stop spinning. Or, at the very least they would become the world’s most combustible lovers and set the air itself on fire.

With this one final line crossed, Nikita sent a silent apology out into the universe and dived into the kiss.

A cacophony rose within her, a chorus of at last, at last that was impossible to ignore. A chaos of desire and excitement mingled with that joy, as though she’d finally reached an achievement so secret that not even she’d known it was there. Never had she consciously articulated the life-goal of luring a wild hurricane like Kyle into her arms, but now that he was there she wanted to celebrate the occasion with everything she had.

The moment his tongue glided over her lips, she knew she’d need a twelve-step program to recover from the taste of him. The firm press of his mouth coaxed hers to meld with his, and the stroke of his tongue seemed to shock her with an almost effervescent stimulation. Her nerve endings tingled with frenetic delight wherever he touched, a reaction to physical contact that she’d never known could exist. Nothing in her experience compared to the overwhelming madness unleashed on her senses, and without being conscious of it she slumped backward until the heat of the car’s hood soaked into the material covering her back.

He came along for the ride, his mouth never leaving hers. Her breasts cushioned the weight of his chest as he settled over her, her knees framing his hips in a position of blatant sexuality made that much more real by the insistent thrust of his arousal against the juncture of her thighs. The heat radiating from him made the flesh there throb with need, despite the layers of clothing separating them. Something sweet and dangerous unfurled in her chest when his tongue devoted itself to worshipping hers, as if the single most important role in his life came down to pleasing her. His fingers threaded through her hair to mold against the curve of her skull. For a second she could have sworn there was a cherishing reverence communicated in how his palm cradled her head, angling her so their mouths fit together with blissful perfection. A rough sound resonated deep in his throat, conveying a delight that mirrored hers when she surged closer. Yet no matter how she pressed against him, there was no way she could get close enough, not unless she fused their two bodies into one.

And that could happen.

The hardness against the increasingly hot slickness of her cleft thrilled her beyond all reason. To have him buried deep inside her up to his hilt, to strive for that oneness she craved…

She could do it. All she had to do was let him in. Into her body. Into her life. Into her…


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