Page 166 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Perry’s tongue skates across my bottom lip, a featherlight touch, and I willingly respond, giving as much as I get, wanting nothing but to be right here, touching him, tasting him, learning the smooth planes of his body, feeling the way he responds to my hands on his skin.
I’ve known for weeks that Perry is the kind of man Icouldfall in love with. But when I saw him gently lead his ex-wife off the stage earlier tonight, kind even in the face of her unkindness, I recognized that he’s the kind of man Iwantto fall in love with.
Butwantingto love him isn’t enough. My life is complicated. Perry can’t just love me back. He has to love meandJack. He has to be comfortable pursuing a relationship with someone who will make him an instant father.
Being togetherfeelsgood, but is that enough? For now, maybe, secluded in a private hotel room in a posh resort, miles away from our real lives and responsibilities.
But will this hold up to real life?
I want to believe it will.
I lean into the kiss. I’mgoingto believe it will.
Perry’s lips move from my mouth to the curve of my jaw, leaving a trail of kisses to my ear. I lean back, my eyes closed, and he continues the slow and blissful torture, pushing my hair out of the way and kissing his way down my neck and across the top of my exposed shoulder.
“You said it’s been how many years since you’ve kissed someone?” I murmur.
He chuckles against my skin. “Almost . . . four?” He leans back. “Man. That’s hard to admit out loud.”
“Nope.” I pull him back to me. “That was not an invitation to stop. More like me marveling that you’re still so good at this with so little practice.”
He pauses, his lips only centimeters from mine, and smiles. “Like riding a bicycle.”
Perry pulls me against him as we kiss, rotating us so that he’s leaning against the headboard, and I’m leaning into him.
This kiss lasts longer than all the others.Andtests my willpower more than all the others. Perry’s hand slips under the hem of my shirt, his palm flat against the small of my back. I resist the urge to flinch and shy away from his touch. I will not let the fear of Perry noticing the softness of my body ruin this moment. He told me he thought I was beautiful justas I am. I have to believe him.
Too much more of this, and I’m liable to stop thinking. Even if Iwantto stop thinking, I have too many reasons to take things slow.
Perry is either reading my mind or feeling the same way, because he breaks the kiss with a low groan. “Okay. We should . . .” His words trail off into a sigh.
“I know,” I say softly. “We should.”
For a long moment, we stay close, our arms still entangled, our foreheads almost touching.
Perry runs a hand down the side of my face, brushing my hair back. “I think we’ve checked all the required boxes to call this an actual makeout.”
I grin. “Even according tokids these days.”
He kisses me one more time, almost as if he can’t help himself, but he ends it quickly, shifting himself backward and putting some distance between us. “Okay. Enough of that.” He snuggles into the pillows, his head propped up on his elbow. “We should have a very boring conversation now.”
I smirk. “Boring, huh?”
“Yep. Baseball stats. Stock market fluctuations.”
“Mood killers. Got it. How about . . . my grandmother’s Belgian waffle recipe?”
“That’d be pillow talk for Lennox, but—wait, see? Success. Thinking of my brother is a definite mood killer.”
“Mission accomplished.” I lift my hands up in a tiny mock cheer.
“All right, Lila Templeton,” Perry says. “Tell me something I don’t already know about you.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Hmm. Does it have to be something important?”
“No. Something unimportant,” he says in his boss voice. “I feel like we’ve covered enough heavy stuff for one night.”
I don’t tell him I’d do just about anything for bossy Perry. We’re trying tokillthe mood, not heighten it. “Yes. Good thinking. Okay. I think olives are disgusting.”
