Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Eva
Istare at his luscious lips and can’t wait to taste them. They look plump and soft, and I have this irrational urge to bite them. That’s why I blurted out that we should practice kissing.
God, what is wrong with me?
I can’t believe I said that. Esteban is just staring at me now, like I grew a second head. His eyes bounce between mine and my mouth, like he’s trying to process what just came out of me. The silence stretches, too long, too tense. I start to panic.
“Or we can just wing it,” I blurt again, heat crawling up my neck.
“If you don’t feel comfortable kissing me, that’s totally fine.
I just wanted to practice so I don’t look ridiculous if there’s a need for you to kiss me in front of people.
I mean, you know, like in Florida. For the fake relationship.
Not because I want to kiss you, which I mean, I do, but not like, ugh. ”
I’m rambling and I can’t stop. I open my mouth to say something else, anything to fill the air, when Esteban leans forward and gently places his index finger over my lips.
The touch makes me freeze.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I get what you’re saying. It’s just…” His eyes search mine. “I’m afraid to kiss you.”
His words hit me like cold water. Afraid? Why would Esteban, cocky, confident, flirtatious Esteban, be afraid to kiss me?
“Why?” I manage to whisper.
He lowers his hand but doesn’t break eye contact. “Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“But I asked you to kiss me,” I say, confused. “Why would I feel uncomfortable if I’m the one asking you to?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, his voice quieter now. “I just want you to be sure.”
I nod slowly, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. “I’m sure.”
For a beat, we just look at each other. Then he leans in again slowly, carefully. His eyes stay locked on mine as he closes the distance, giving me plenty of time to pull away.
But I don’t. I tilt my head up, meeting him halfway.
The moment our lips touch, a shiver rolls down my spine.
His lips are soft—so soft—but confident, firm in the way they move against mine like he’s savoring every second, like he’s been holding back and finally let himself give in.
My breath catches, and my hands instinctively grip the edge of the couch cushion, trying to ground myself as the whole world tilts beneath me.
He kisses me slowly at first, teasingly, like he’s reading every twitch of my body to make sure this is okay.
Then I feel the soft, deliberate stroke of his tongue tracing the seam of my lips.
A spark ignites low in my stomach.
He’s asking without asking, coaxing me open, and I don’t even hesitate. I part my lips, welcoming him in, and the kiss deepens into something heavier, something that pulls a sound from the back of my throat I didn’t know I could make.