Page 49 of Her Wicker Temptation

“I did not hear.”

“I figured that out.” She does not sound angry. If anything, she seems more curious about it than bothered. She reaches toward the canvas, then stops short of the wet paint.

When she turns toward me, she is close enough that my shoulder is nearly level with her breasts. Yesterday, I had to ask why her fingers got warmer against my neck. Now she stays close enough that I can feel her warmth without touching her.

Sitting here suddenly feels wrong, so I push my chair back and stand. Laura is close against the front of me now, her face tipped up toward mine. I notice her mouth first. Then how little space there is between her body and mine.

“You are doing it again,” I say.

Her eyebrows draw together. “Doing what?”

“Looking at me like yesterday.”

The color in her cheeks deepens. “Kell.”

“You looked at me in the store. You looked at me in the jacket.” I hold her gaze. “You are looking at me now.”

“Kell.” My name comes out low, almost a warning, but she does not move away.

Yesterday, I did not understand why her fingers became warmer against my neck. Now I do.

I know what kissing is. I heard enough before I had a body to understand the idea of it, but knowing that people put their mouths together tells me almost nothing useful now that Laura is standing in front of me. I do not know how her mouth will feel against mine or what I am supposed to do once it is there. I want to find out.

“I want to kiss you.”

Laura says nothing at first. Then her hand leaves the table and rests against the center of my chest, fingers spreading over the weave. Her thumb moves once against me.

“Yes.”

I do not move immediately. She does. She closes the last few inches and puts her mouth against mine.

Laura’s lips are soft in a way nothing in my body is soft. Warm too, but different from the warmth of her hand against my chest. Her mouth presses against mine, eases just enough for the pressure to change, then presses close again before I understand the first touch.

Her fingers curl against me. The kiss should matter more, but somehow I feel every finger through the weave, the way her hand changes from resting against my chest to holding on. The pressure increases when I press my mouth more firmly to hers.

Laura makes a low sound against my mouth and kisses me harder. I change the pressure deliberately, and her fingers tighten against my chest. I do it again because I want to know if she will respond the same way. She does.

I put one hand at her waist. I do not pull, but when she moves closer on her own, I bring her the rest of the way. Her body fits against mine.

The first thing I feel is softness. Her breasts press against the lower part of my chest, warm and yielding where my weave is firm. I have seen the shape of them beneath her clothes. I understood what breasts were. Knowing the word turns out to be almost useless compared with feeling them against me.

The contact goes through me harder than I expect. I want to press closer before I have even finished feeling what is already there. My hands tighten slightly on her, not to hold her in place, but because my body seems to know before I do that I want more of this.

Then the rest of her comes close enough that I stop being able to separate one sensation from another. Her body gives softly beneath my hand. Heat comes through her clothes into my palm. When she presses nearer, the contact changes everywhere at once, and I cannot decide which part of it I want to feel more.

Then something lower in my body changes. Pressure gathers between my legs so quickly that for an instant I do not understand it. The woven structure there firms and fills, becoming heavier against the front of my jeans. I know the word for what is happening. I know what an erection is. I did not know it would feel like this.

Not pain. Not exactly pressure either. Want, somehow made physical.

Laura moves against me again, and the new hardness presses into the softness of her lower body. I go still. She does not.

She can feel me. She must know what my body is doing, and instead of moving away, she presses closer. I want to move against her. I do not. Yet.

Her mouth is still on mine, and suddenly that feels even more dangerous because now I understand how much more of her body I want to discover. Then her mouth opens against mine.

For an instant I do not know what changed. The kiss changes. Her lips part beneath mine, giving me access to warmth I have not felt before. I hesitate, not because I want to stop, but because I have no experience to tell me what comes next.

Laura shows me. Her tongue touches mine.