Kissing Michael was unlike anything I ever imagined my first kiss would be like. Not only did his taste explode across my tongue like ambrosia, sending shockwaves down my body, but the way he was in complete control let me forget I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.
And it made me appreciate him that much more.
But when he opened his mouth to deepen that kiss, it felt like he was massaging my tongue with impeccable timing that matched the pounding of my heart. My knees wobbled, and my legs threatened to collapse from the overwhelming sensations I felt from Michael’s kiss alone.
Before I realized what I was doing, I was holding the material of his shirt in a vice grip and, when that offered no relief, I started clawing at his chest, silently begging for more.
The rippling of his muscles and pure strength of them was enough to make me feel like the luckiest woman alive.
It didn’t matter that I didn’t feel any body heat from him, except for my own. Even his tongue and mouth wasn’t warm as he kissed me like his life depended on it. I just couldn’t bring myself to care.
Either Michael really was a vampire, or he was taking great care to make me believe he was. But then I lost all ability to think as he bit my tongue just enough that I felt the pressure of his teeth.
I cried out into his mouth, oblivious to the fact that we were still standing outside in the street and a groan, low and throaty vibrated in his chest in response.
When he finally pulled back to look at me, I felt the heat in his gaze and it did nothing but push me higher.
“Please,” I begged with a breathy sigh, surprised I was capable of saying anything coherent at all.
Michael’s blue eyes flashed against the late afternoon light and he grinned before he took my hand and started walking again.
I was amazed I remembered to put one foot in front of the other as I followed after him.
© Sarah Doughty