Page 21 of Dating Mr. Right A Collection
Even though it’s a staged kiss, it feels wholly real, especially as he lingers and I taste him on my lips.
He tastes like the one man I want now. The man I want a second date with. A second date we won’t be having.
But oh, how I wish we could.
It’s a good thing I’m sitting, because I’m melting from his lips brushing mine, from his scent flooding my nostrils, and from his hand cupping my cheek.
By all accounts, it’s a modest kiss.
But tell that to my body.
To my body, his kiss feels dirty and delicious all over, like it could lead to hotel rooms after dark, to wrists pinned, to up-against-the-wall escapades.
To all night long.
We break apart.
He whispers, “Wow.” All of those sparks turn into a fireworks show in my chest. Exploding, bursting. A wow from the barest kiss.
That may be the most unexpected part of today.
Because it’s a wow for me too.
* * *
When we arrive at our destination, we scurry to a nearby palm tree, and we point upward. I know the Welcome to Vegas sign will be lit up and neon in our shot.
We high-five.
“We’re pulling this off.”
“We are seriously kind of amazing,” I say.
He shoots me a look. “Kind of? We’re just plain and simple amazing.”
“Fine, fine. Have it your way. We’re absolutely amazing.”
“Are you ready for what comes next?”
I nod. “I’m absolutely ready.”
“Positive? You don’t want to go roller skate or lie on a blanket under the stars instead?”
I narrow my eyes. “I want to do both. Right now. All the time. But I want to do this too. Do you?”
“Just making sure,” he says with a smile.
“Are you sure?”
Cameron laughs, and the sound makes my heart vault. Why do I like the sound of his laughter so much? I wish I knew. But I really, really like it.
“I’m very sure,” he says with a smile, then loops his arm around my waist and yanks me close. “By the way, have I told you you’re a whole lot of fun? Like, more fun than monkeys in a barrel?”
“But how does anyone know how much fun monkeys in a barrel really are?”
“I don’t know. Has anyone ever put monkeys in a barrel and tried to have fun with them?”
“I hope not. That doesn’t seem like it would be fun for the monkeys.”
“And we really should be nice to monkeys,” he says, then presses a kiss to my nose.
I sigh into the kiss and whisper, “I’m having fun too. More fun than if I was watching Cupid stream online.”
He arches a brow in a question.
I wave a hand. “It’s this old TV show. I keep hoping someday it’ll stream online. Let’s skedaddle, and we can discuss Camus, you philosophy major, you.”
His eyes twinkle. “Don’t get me excited, Kristen.”
“Camus gets you excited?”
“Almost as much as Descartes.”
As we hop in the car, racing to our next destination, I flash back over the night. Over the kiss and the champagne, the fun and the conversations. The way we get along so weirdly well, the way we both jumped on this crazy idea.
And it wasn’t an algorithm that brought us together.
It was a person.
Or maybe it was us.
* * *
At the chapel, we say hello to an Elvis impersonator and we snag a photo with him. Then he does the deed.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
With those words, all I can think is we are getting so even they’re going to need a new word for “even.”
“You may kiss the bride.”
“Take our picture, please, would you, Elvis?”
Elvis nods as Cameron hands him his camera.
Cameron cups my cheeks, brings my face to his, and plants the most delicious kiss on my lips.
He’s gentle at first. A tender sweep of his lips. A brush against mine. Just enough for tingles to spread down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
I feel a little swoony, a little shimmery, as flutters race across my body.
Then, he kicks it up a notch. He’s more insistent, a touch greedy.
And holy hell, I like greedy from him. I like it a lot. His kiss becomes demanding as his hands clasp my face, and his mouth explores mine. Tongues, lips, teeth. He kisses with an ownership, like he wants me more than he ever expected.
It’s the same for me, I want to say. It’s absolutely the same for me.
And I don’t need to speak those words, because our bodies are talking. He tugs me closer, deepening the kiss.
The game is all the way on, and his lips devastate mine as he kisses me with a delicious intensity.
I rise on tiptoe, thread my hands around his neck, and kiss him hard. Like he’s mine. Like he belongs to me tonight. And that’s how this feels. Like I get to have him in this moment.
A fevered, frenzied moment punctuated by moans, and groans, and needy sighs. By kisses that can’t possibly end. By a connection neither one of us wants to break because it feels so damn good.
