SIX MYLES
SIX
MYLES
My kissing skills are rusty, to say the least. The last time I kissed someone intimately was the day I kissed Cara goodbye before walking out the door and heading to work, before canceling our date on Valentine’s Day.
It was the last time I saw her alive.
But this… this kiss is clumsy but earnest, or more specifically, I’m clumsy. But I put my heart into it.
And Tristan? He’s poised and so very Tristan. He seals his mouth over mine, keeping the kiss light, coaxing me to follow his lead. I think I’m a quick study, learning the slide of tongues and the nip of teeth. Then he lets me do as I please with his tongue.
I can't help but smile into the kiss, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. Tristan makes a sound low in his throat, but he still allows me to control the kiss. My fingers twist into his navy blue henley.
Then we break apart when I come to my senses, "Sorry," I pant. "I shouldn't have—"
"It's okay." Tristan runs his thumb over my lower lip, the side of my throat. "Really, it's okay."
"Is it?" Hope and fear war within me. "I've never—not with a man."
"We can stop whenever you want." He kisses me again, slow and deep, and my heart hammers against his. "Or not stop at all."
This is quite the kiss. I don't know what got into me.
Maybe I was just egged on by Tristan's teasing.
Or maybe I was a little jealous of how he could so easily suggest it's no big deal to kiss another man.
It made me feel like I had to prove something, although I'm not sure whether it's to Tristan or myself.
So, I did it; I kissed him.
Turns out, it's one of the hottest kisses of my entire life.
Tristan was bratty, and his teasing attitude the entire evening has made me needy. And I simply just… want. I want someone to hold me, be intimate with me, to make me theirs.
And maybe, just maybe, I want that someone to be Tristan.
Never in a million years would I have thought I'd want someone who wasn't Cara, or more broadly speaking…
a woman. My wife had been the only person I'd ever imagined wanting to kiss.
But she's gone now, and I think I want Tristan.
A man. And I don't know what to do about that piece of self-realization.
Questions swirl in my head. It's not quite a year yet; does that mean I'm being unfaithful?
Am I weird for wanting to explore this new world?
Should I say “to heck with everything,” and simply live in the moment?
Isn't it better I explore this new world with Tristan, since he's the one with the experience?
My eyes drink in the shape of Tristan’s luscious lips, and as if mine have a mind of their own, they edge closer and closer, until they brush against his lips again. With a needy moan, he captures my lips, kissing me hard, like he's afraid I'll disappear if he lets go.
I slide my hands under his shirt, palming the warm skin of his sculpted back. He shivers deliciously, pressing closer.
When we break for air, he rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Tristan."
"That's okay." He brushes his lips over mine softly, teasing. "I do."
“You’re going to help me get more experience before dating again?”
“Mmhm. Exactly.”
I huff out a laugh, a sense of panic overwhelming me. I really hope he can’t see a glint of panic in my eyes.
Tristan cups my face with his hands, grounding me. “We’ll go slow,” he promises. “One kiss at a time.”
The panic recedes, replaced by a bone-deep longing that stirs heat low in my gut.
“One kiss at a time,” I echo.
Tristan's smoldering—–yes, smoldering—gaze pins me in place.
His eyes, dark and intense, linger on my lips before slowly raking up to meet my own.
I've had zero experience with men, but I'm not oblivious to what's happening here.
A shiver of anticipation runs down my spine from the undeniable fire in his stare.
"Tristan." My voice is barely audible above my pounding heartbeat, which is growing louder in my ears.
"Myles," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.
His eyes are still locked with mine, and I feel exposed, like he can see straight through to my core.
It scares me, but I don't want to look away.
I crave this connection—the intimacy that comes from truly seeing and being seen by someone else.
I miss having that with Cara, and I'm not going to miss this opportunity with Tristan.
"Is it wrong that I want more?" I ask hesitantly, my heart pounding in my chest.
"More?" Tristan breathes, one eyebrow raised in question.
"Of this. Of kissing you," I clarify, trying to ignore the vulnerability I feel with every word.
I watch as Tristan's eyes drop to my lips, and a hunger takes over his gaze. He licks his own lips, dragging out the moment, making me squirm with anticipation. I can't help but think how surreal this all feels.
"God, Myles," he groans, his eyes never leaving mine as he steps closer. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now."
I'm shaking. My heart pounds against my ribcage, a wild animal desperate to escape its confinement.
Tristan cups my cheeks in his strong, calloused palms—rough from years of firefighting—and pulls me close. Our lips touch, tentative at first, as if we're both afraid of breaking something delicate between us.
His mouth is warm, soft, and unexpectedly tender. The taste of him awakens a delicious sensation, igniting a fire deep in my belly that spreads through every nerve ending. I part my lips, inviting him to deepen the kiss. He accepts, his tongue sliding against mine, exploring, tasting, teasing.
"God, you feel so good," he murmurs against my lips, his breath hot and heavy.
My hands find their way to his muscular back, feeling the play of sinew beneath his shirt. I want more—need more—but I hesitate, unsure of where to go from here. Despite my uncertainty, the connection between us is undeniable, electric.
As we kiss, thoughts race through my head, jumbled and chaotic. I'm terrified of what this means, of whether I'm getting ahead of myself. But even more than that, I'm afraid of what might happen when this kiss ends.
But then, too soon, Tristan gently breaks the kiss. I'm left gasping for breath, my entire body humming with a newfound hunger I never knew existed.
"Wait," I say, my voice barely audible, as Tristan walks to the front door.
He opens it, then looks back over his shoulder giving me one last intense look, his eyes filled with unspoken promises and desires.
Anticipation sends a thrilling shudder through me.
"See you soon," he promises, and closes the door with a soft thud.