Page 52 of Champagne Fizz

My insides are singing songs to the gods, and Fraggle my rock, did I really just kiss Simon? Like reeeeeeeeally kiss him? And—

Oh, holy Mary mother of—I just—

Holy fucking shit!

A minced oath is not going to cover this: I one-hundred-percent orgasmed as Simon kissed me.

And it wasamazing.

“Um, uh, I, uh—” I mumble, trying to get my bearings.

Simon’s arms are still around me.

His lips are still brushing my ear.

I pull back from his embrace and his expression is filled with an amused confusion.

“I—I can explain,” I say with a whimper of embarrassment, fear streaking through me. Sweet marmalade, what is he thinking right now?

“You don’t have to explain anything,” Simon says, cupping my neck again and pulling me toward him. “That was hot as hell.”

He kisses me again, and it’s so dang soft I don’t think I can breathe. My body starts to tingle like I’m a bottle of champagne he’s shaking.

I nudge him away, gasping. “Simon, we—" Only, my fingers dig into his chest and my breath is ragged. He leans forward and puts his forehead to mine.

“I have to admit,” he whispers with a wicked smile. “My cock is a little jealous.”

Whimpers spill from my lips at that comment. I’m not going to be able to handle my cheese whiz if he’s going to talk dirty to me like that.

“If I can make you come from a kiss,” he says softly, brushing his lips over my temple and down my cheek, “then I can’t imagine how responsive you’d be with my cock.”

“Sweet raspberries n’ Jesus,” I moan over his words, and he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth. It makes my vision go white and my body starts singing Lady Marmalade. “S-Simon, please—” I push him away. “We’re not—we—”

A shiver ripples through my skin, and he smiles, attuned to my every reaction to him.

And glory be, do I react to him.

“This is a bad idea,” I pant, pointing between us and backing away. “You startled me and—”

“You kissed me.”

I bite my lip. That’s true. I couldn’t help myself. His hands were on my hips and he smelled like soap and sugar. And snowstorms and lightning, I want to kiss him again.

His smile widens, able to read my face like I’m a child begging.

“Yes,” I admit. “I kissed you. But we can’t—”

“Kendall, you orgasmed you were so turned on,” Simon defends, saying that like it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. And coming from his lips it sounds like he sees it as a blessing.

Only, it’s not.

“Look,thatis complicated,” I reply, my tone turning desperate. “And it’s not just you. I have a condition, and—” I search for ways to explain what my body does without sounding like a mental case. “It doesn’t matter! Because Arie and Olivia are going to return at any minute, and we—”

“What do you mean it’s not just me?” Simon’s eyes narrow.

“Uh—” My neck feels like it’s seven-hundred degrees. “When I’m—when I get—you see—” My hands are making motions like a duck with schizophrenia. “Look, if I kissedanyone,” I say, exacerbated, “I’d orgas—”

Only, I bite my tongue and don’t say it.

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