Today marks the 200th time I’ve posted an excerpt as part of Victoria’s Sunday Snog tradition. It’s hard for me to believe. One thing I can tell you, though. I’ve written a lot of kisses since that first snog. In fact, participating almost every week in the orally-inspired blog hop has led me to focus more on kisses in my writing. My early work tended to gloss over the kisses on the way to other activities ;^) I’ve learned to linger, to savor the sweetness of those breathless moments.
To celebrate Sunday Snog #200, I’m sharing one of my favorite kisses. I posted this as a guest at Victoria’s blog, way back in 2011, but I’ve never offered it here. The kiss comes from my holiday M/M/F ménage romance, Almost Home.
Leave me a comment telling me about your favorite kiss—from a book, a movie or from real life. I’ll randomly choose one person to receive a $5 bookstore gift certificate—or a copy of Almost Home, if you prefer.
Home is a state of heart.
Suzanne and Gino have history going back to high school, but for years Suzanne has been three thousand miles away, preoccupied with her challenging career. A mistletoe kiss at a holiday party reminds her of their old bond and proves that some things get better with age. When Gino rescues her from a New England blizzard, though, she discovers that she's not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele. Snowed in, without electricity or running water, the three explore the many shapes a triangle can assume. Although she's far away from her everyday existence, Suzanne realizes that she's almost home
The kiss caught her off guard.
One moment Suzanne was standing in the doorway to Helena’s den, scanning the occupants and wondering if she knew anyone at all at this party. The next moment someone twirled her around and fastened a pair of firm lips on hers. Out of instinct or habit, she closed her eyes. The darkness heightened her other senses. Powerful arms circled her body and pulled her against a fuzzy male chest. Her partner’s scent rose around her, a complex mix of soap and musk, evergreen and wood smoke. His tongue teased the seam where her lips met and she let him enter, her self-protective reflexes dulled by his warmth and the glass of merlot she’d downed on her arrival. His mouth tasted of eggnog and candy canes, appropriately seasonal. He was delicious, in fact—not just his mouth but the quiet confidence of his probing tongue, the sculpted muscle she felt under his sweater, his bold hands wandering across her back to her buttocks. She hadn’t enjoyed a kiss like this in a long time.
She’d felt chilled and tense ever since her plane touched down in frigid Boston but now her muscles began to unknot. He was a miniature sun, melting her, turning her languid and dreamy. She clutched at his solid form and returned his kiss, trading heat for heat. Tropical colours paraded behind her eyelids—fuschia, lime, peach, and aqua—shimmering like the water in her pool back home. She even began to perspire, her long-sleeved velvet dress suddenly too warm for comfort.
He pulled her full hips against his lean ones. A tell-tale lump, wonderfully hard, pressed against her belly. Her panties and tights dampened, too.
Normally she would have resisted but stress and alcohol made her susceptible. She allowed the kiss to lengthen and deepen, sinking into the pure pleasure of it.
A smattering of applause brought her back to awareness. “Whoa there!” hooted one of the guests. “You two want some privacy?”
Suzanne broke away from the man who had ambushed her. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Embarrassment added a sharp edge to her voice.
The dark haired man favoured her with a grin. “Mistletoe,” he said, pointing upward. Sure enough, a cluster of green leaves and pale berries dangled from the door frame. He could scarcely contain his laughter.
That laugh. That voice. Something tickled Suzanne’s memory. “Gino!” she exclaimed, finally, chuckling herself. “I can’t believe it! Still acting like we’re in high school.”
“I couldn’t resist, Suzy Q.” The old nickname made her blush. He hadn’t relinquished her hand. “In fact, if you don’t move, I’m very likely to kiss you again.”
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