Page 55 of Fight Or Flight

I’ve kissed a lot of girls in my seventeen years and I can honestly tell you, I’ve never been as nervous as I am right now. It’s like some part of me knows that there is no going back. Once my lips touch hers, she’ll own me. Mind, body, and soul. My heart hammers inside my chest as I keep my gaze pinned to hers. Brooklyn tips her chin up, giving me that silent yes one more time, and that’s all the drive I need to press my lips to hers.

So soft.

So sweet.

A moan tears from my throat as her lips part in invitation and my tongue slides over hers.

So very fucking sweet.

I lift my hands to her face, holding her steady as the wind blows her hair around us. My tongue slides deeper, tangling with hers, and her hands slide up and around my neck, pulling me closer. She kisses me harder and the little bit of control I thought I had slips from me. My teeth scrape against her bottom lip, enticing a moan from the back of her throat, and my tongue charges back into her mouth, teasing and tasting.

Exploring.

Savoring.

Claiming.

I’m about to trail my lips over her jaw and make my descent to her tempting neck when a phone rings. It’s like a bucket of water is poured over our heads because we both pull away dazed and a little confused. It continues to ring as I stare at her swollen lips. It rings and rings, neither of us making a move to see whose it is. When the ringing stops, she draws her hands away from my neck and touches her fingertips to her lips.

I narrow my eyes, trying to read her.

Please don’t let her regret it.

“Say something,” I plead.

“Do it again.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, rushing to reach for her when the phone starts to ring again. I mutter a curse and pat my pants pockets for my phone. Pulling it out, I glance at the screen and see it’s my dad.

“Christ, he really is the fun police,” I hiss.

Sighing, I go to accept the call, but Brooklyn’s hand closes around my wrist.

“Let it ring,” she begs.

Her wish is my command.

Ring, baby, ring.

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