Page 53 of The Kiss Principle

The door opened. Zé stood there. His eyes were red, his face puffy, and it was like an out-of-body experience, to understand in an instant that he’d been crying. Everything else ashed away in my mind. He opened his mouth, but I didn’t give him a chance.

I stepped forward and kissed him.

14

The first kiss wasn’t, maybe, my smoothest move. We bonked heads—only a little. And our mouths didn’t quite line up. He was off balance because he tried to move back as I moved in. And I tried to catch him, only he was taller, and then we both almost went down.

But then he caught his balance, and I slid an arm around his waist, and my other hand was at his nape. The second kiss was a lot better. By the third kiss, when he made a little sound and moved into me, I was hitting my stride.

We stumbled across the room—being as careful of his knee as I could while we moved, locked together, through the dark. When we reached the bed, Zé sat, and I sat next to him. He took my head in his hands and kissed me again, and this time, his tongue pressed against my mouth, and I let him in.

He’s a dude, a part of my brain kept saying. His hair, his mouth, his skin, his size, his strength. This running catalogue of his maleness. I was used to being the assertive one (well, back in the day, when I’d had time, I’d been the assertive one)—and while that was probably some patriarchal bullshit, and there was no reason the girl couldn’t be the assertive one, that wasn’t how it had happened for me. So, this, with Zé moving me closer, his hands strong and possessive on me, was new. And there were no boobs to play with; that was new too. And the way he thrust his tongue into my mouth, the demanding certainty of it, was like being fucked, and a part of my brain lit up as the words played in my head, He’s fucking you. He’s fucking you with his tongue.

Maybe Zé sensed it because he eased back from his next kiss and considered me.

I tried for a smile and landed somewhere near nervous desperation. “So, uh…”

“Oh. Oh! Oh God, Fernando, I’m sorry. It’s your first time?”

“It’s not my first time, donkey-cock.” But I had a hard time meeting his eyes. “It’s my first time with a guy.”

The silence stretched out.

“If that’s—” I began.

“That is the hottest fucking thing of my entire life.”

I wasn’t used to Zé swearing. I definitely wasn’t used to the heat in his voice, the gravel, the unabashed desire. The way he looked at me, like he was eating me with his eyes, was something I’d gotten a few times from Augustus’s friends, and I’d gotten it in clubs back when I still went to clubs, but I’d never needed to acknowledge it.

“Sorry,” he said almost immediately. “I’m not trying to fetishize or objectify or, um, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I like it. That you like it. I mean—I don’t know what I mean. I’m sorry if I’m making this weird.”

“You’re not making this weird.” He ran his fingers through my hair and gave me the slow smile. “And I definitely don’t want to spend all night apologizing to each other. How about this? What would you feel comfortable doing?”

“I thought we were doing pretty good making out.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “We were doing great.”

“Let’s try that again.”

Zé went slower this time. He didn’t grab me. He didn’t haul me around. His tongue touched mine, but the demand was gone.

“Are you kissing me,” I asked, planting a hand on his chest, “or your grandmother?”

He burst out laughing. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“I liked how you were kissing me before. And I liked that you were handsy. I mean, I’m not used to it, so maybe go slow, but I liked it.”

Zé nodded. “Are you not comfortable touching me? Because you keep putting your hands on the wall.”

“Well—” I had to think about that. “I mean, normally I’m touching boobs.”

He wasn’t much of one for rolling his eyes, but right then, he made an exception.

“Then tell me what to do, you horse’s ass.”

He shucked his shirt and leaned back. Then, taking my hands in his, he brought them to his chest. That was all: he spread my fingers and pressed my palms to his pecs. He was warm and solid. Velvet skin and dense muscle. He had a little bit of hair around his nipples, which I hadn’t noticed when I’d seen him naked before. More hair at his happy trail.

---