Page 11 of Tailored for Them

Thankfully, they responded. Taylor’s arm wrapped around my shoulders while their other hand gripped my waist. It was a little awkward, sitting directly next to them in our chairs, but we both leaned into it.

It wasn’t an explicit kiss by any means.

In an odd sort of way, I wanted to thank them with it.

Their soft, warm lips gently brushed and nipped against mine. No tongues were involved at all, even though I desperately wanted to taste them.

I slid one of my hands into the back of their head, their short, half-shaven strands molded between my fingers in a way that made me sigh against their mouth.

The kiss lasted no more than a few seconds tops, and when we pulled back from each other, I was rewarded with a faint, pink blush staining each of Taylor Desmond’s cheeks. Their eyes were hooded, and their dark pupils expanded to conceal most of the blue of their eyes.

I lifted my hand to my own lip, tracing where I could still feel theirs.

“They’re gone,” Leo grinned, making the two of us snap out of whatever trance we were in and pull completely away from each other, “Fucking hell, that was brilliant.”

Chapter Three

TAYLOR

If there wasone thing that I took away from the night I had drinks with Leo, Jacqueline, and Nicole, it was that Nicole’s kisses were practically drugging.

She was an excellent kisser.

I had kissed many, many people in my life.

In my early twenties, I went through a hoe phase, just as any other person does. I wasn’t unfamiliar with kissing. I had it down to a science. Kissing was an art I had perfected over time. Something as second nature to me as breathing.

But kissing Nicole Young in that taco bar the other day?

I felt like a virgin again.

And I didn’t even believe in the social construct of virginity.

A Nerf dart pinged me in the head, and I was immediately pulled out of my thoughts. I blinked back into the present, pushing the haunting memory of Nicole’s soft hands holding my face to hers, to see Iris St. James standing above me, holding a Nerf gun right at my forehead.

She had found my hiding spot, which wasn’t hard to do since I was just crouching behind the couch.

“Gotchya,” she grinned, an evil sneaky grin that could have been copied and pasted onto her face from her mother’s. Perhaps it was the freckles they shared.

“Darn,” I shook my head, standing up to accept my defeat, “I need to hide better. You’re too good at this.”

“Wait!” The five-year-old lifted her hands as her wide eyes flitted around the living room, “Let’s pretend you’re on my team now.”

“Okay!” I crouched low, following her to the other side of the living room and hiding behind one of the ancient, ugly accent chairs that had existed for decades before Iris was even a thought.

Upstairs, we heard Susie stomping around.

“Are you ready?” I lifted my own Nerf gun and set it on top of the chair, hiding most of my body from view. Iris leaned to the side, closing one eye and aiming at the end of the staircase as if she were lining up a shot using a scope.

“Ready, Freddy.” She replied.

The two of us held our breath as we waited for Susie to hop down the stairs. She was humming a song of some kind, completely lost in her thoughts.

Poor kid didn’t stand a chance.

As soon as she came into view, Iris and I unloaded our Nerf guns.

Susie immediately laughed and lifted her hands to shield herself, before accepting her fate and dramatically pretending to die. She clutched her stomach, tipping precariously from side to side, moaning and gargling.

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