Page 12 of My Charming Rival (Stars In Their Eyes 1)
He was the ice cream. I was the eater. I didn’t need the whole cone. I could take a lick. One tasty, decadent lick, and then walk away.
Piece of cake.
I leaned in, brushed my lips against his, and took him by surprise. He was startled momentarily, and didn’t respond for about a fraction of a second. Then, he kissed back. It was a tentative kiss at first, his lips soft as he slanted his mouth against mine. A starter kiss on the boardwalk while the sun fell in the sky, its lingering rays warming me. He gently placed a hand on my cheek, exploring my mouth more, running the tip of his tongue across my lips, then deepening the kiss in a way that made me very nearly forget where I was. I shuddered, and tingles raced from my stomach to the tips of my fingers, lighting up my insides. The kiss radiated throughout me, dizzying and delicious and a promise of so much more. It was the kind of kiss that took over your brain. That made you believe in possibilities, in perfect chemistry.
This kiss was the sun warming me, it was cool ocean waves lapping at the shore, it was the song you wanted to blast in the car.
As his tongue slid over mine, my heart beat faster, and I gave in to the moment, relinquishing all my fine-tuned control. My mind was hazy, and I kissed him harder, craving more. Because he tasted so freaking good. No, he tasted fantastic. Like chocolate and a hot, sexy guy all at once. A hot guy who knew how to kiss a girl. Who kissed both tender and insistent, his touch hinting at all the ways he could do other things to me, and wanted to. He looped his hand around my neck, threading his fingers into my hair, tugging me closer. He’d taken the reins on the kiss, exploring my lips, brushing his fingertips along my cheek, dropping his other hand to my waist, our bodies sliding snugly into place. There was something that felt far too right about the way we aligned, his strong, firm chest against mine, his hips near enough to me that I could tell precisely how much he liked kissing me.
A lot.
And as much as I liked kissing him. I ran my hands in his hair, so damn soft and thick, the kind I just wanted to hold onto. All night long.
Come to think of all—all day, too. Yeah, I could skip a class or two for more of this.
That was the problem. The last time I’d had a kiss that made me melt, I nearly failed organic chemistry. And that had sent me spinning.
After a few minutes of fantastic kissing on the beach, I had to put a stop to it.
I broke the kiss.
“That would be a maybe to a date,” I said, then I smoothed my hands over my shirt and walked away.
5
William
The black and white ball sailed over the net. I watched and waited for it to hit pay dirt or be slammed back into my face. When it pummeled the sand on the other side, I pumped a fist and my friend John clapped me on the back.
“World’s meanest serve,” he said.
“You know it,” I said as we returned to the back of the line and waited for the other guys to have their shot. It was two against two, and we were playing some of the guys I’d run into with Jess in the late afternoon. The sun rested on the edge of the ocean now; it would drop down below the horizon any minute, and leave behind peach-pink brushstrokes of color against the blue sky.
“I got a number today,” I added.
“For what? Pizza delivery? I got that number, too. It’s called Red Boy’s and they make the best pie in Venice Beach.”
“They do make extraordinary pizza. Thank God you’ll be able to get it whenever you want,” I replied, then locked fingers, lunged forward, and returned the incoming serve. Seconds later, it screamed back over the net and John made a run for it, then spiked it cleanly into the opposing team’s side. The guy who’d retrieved the ball from me earlier signaled a time-out to talk to his teammate.
“So did you get the number from a bathroom wall, William?”
“Yes. It was your number. It said for a good time, don’t call John.”
“Ooh,” he said, clutching his chest as if I’d wounded him. “What’s the story for real?”
“Met this girl on a job today. Got her number from the employer.”
He held his hands out wide. “You couldn’t even score her digits yourself?”
“She pretty much jumped me on the boardwalk.”
“Oh, this gets better and better,” he said, chuckling deeply. “What you’re telling me is she made out with you, and left you without her number, and you somehow think she wants to hear from you?”
