I close my eyes and there’s a delicious, aching second before his lips meet mine. Soft, unbearably soft, and I’m sinking into them, falling down, down, down into a rabbit hole.
The kiss is sweet, slow, gentle. The kiss is like lingering in satin sheets with sun streaming on your skin. The kiss is soothing but it does nothing to soothe me.
It only stirs up those butterflies. It lets loose the birds from the cage. It makes my mouth open against his, suddenly insatiable, hungry, desperate for everything he can possibly give me.
He responds in kind. He groans into my mouth which shoots fire down my spine, incinerating my nerves. His lips are wet and wanting, enveloping mine with softness, with wildness, with desire that I can taste.
His hands bury themselves in my hair, holding me, his body twisting against mine to get closer. I grab him tighter, pulling him toward me, then let my hands roam up and down his sides, feeling the taut muscle underneath. I slip my fingers underneath his shirt, his skin soft and warm beneath my caress.
The tip of his tongue touches mine and I am lost to him. Whatever armor I had over my black, bitter heart is being chipped away with each passionate kiss, each deep, slow pull of my mouth to his.
I feel like I’m being kissed for the first time. This kiss is erasing every single man that has ever crossed my path. It’s a restart button being pushed.
It’s the best kiss I’ve ever had.
And it doesn’t seem fair that the finest lips to ever grace mine are leaving in a week.
He pulls away? just briefly, his lips sliding away from my open mouth and slowly moving down my jawbone, nipping, sucking, tasting. His rough beard tickles my skin, inflaming my desire. His grip around my head tightens, containing me, and his mouth is hot against my neck as he lets out a ragged breath.
I moan, unable to help myself, pressing against him, wanting him to devour me. There is so much heat, so much built up tension between us, I don’t know how I can ever extract myself from him. I’ve wanted him so badly and now that his lips are kissing my neck and he’s holding me, so tight, and I can feel his own lust for me, I’m not sure if I can ever stop.
A rustle sounds from the bushes beside us, bringing me back to a hazy reality.
Lachlan pulls away, breathing hard with my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. He slowly turns his head and looks to the side of us. I suck in my breath, my lips still throbbing from his kiss, and follow his gaze.
Eyes stare at us from the bushes. I freeze up but Lachlan whispers in a raspy voice, “Shh, shhh, it’s okay.” He slowly moves into a crouch and I shuffle over to give him room. He turns and faces the eyes in the bushes—which I hope are the dogs—and takes something out of his pocket.
“Did you like that?” he asks them gently. “Here.”
He tosses something into the bushes.
The eyes come closer, the wet snap of jowls, eating whatever it was.
“Do you just carry dog food with you everywhere?” I whisper, but he doesn’t answer me.
He coos at the dogs, tosses them something again, and slowly moves toward them, keeping his hulking frame as low as possible.
I squint, trying to watch him in the dark. I’m a bit worried that the dogs might attack him. At the same time, I’m cursing them for being cockblockers.
“Easy now,” he says, taking off his belt. “Easy.”
Is he going to use his belt as a leash? What kind of dog superhero is this guy?
A bunch of shuffling follows, then more hushed, calming words from Lachlan until finally he stands up slowly.
“Okay,” he says to me. “I’ve got one of them.”
I get to my feet, dusting off the dirt from my ass, and peer at him. At his side is the shadow of a dog, his belt looped around its neck. Though the dog is tense, straining slightly at the makeshift leash, it amazes me that he’s not fighting, not trying to run.
“How did you do that?” I ask in awe.
“Used my belt. It’s a little too big for me anyway.”