Cheyenne
We’re halfway through the movie when it occurs to me that I have no idea what’s happening on screen. There’s an explosion of some sort, and one of the characters is crying. Dramatic music plays in the background, but I couldn’t tell you why. I’ve completely lost track of the plot.
The only thing I’m aware of is Knox sitting beside me and the solid warmth of his thigh as it brushes against mine every time one of us shifts.
Or the way his arm is stretched along the back of the couch.
Even though he’s not quite touching me, it’s close enough to feel the heat of him near my shoulder.
It’s ridiculous.
No, I’m being ridiculous.
We’ve been sitting here for over an hour, and it feels like you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.
One minute, the couple on the screen is arguing, and the next, they’re locking lips.
The kiss is intense and messy. My breath catches, and Knox stills before carefully shifting.
Now all I can think about is what it would feel like to have Knox’s mouth sliding over mine.
Holy crap, I can’t believe that just popped into my head.
Unfortunately, once it’s there, dislodging it becomes impossible.
I stare at the television a second too long before clearing my throat. “Do you, um, think we’ll have to kiss?”
His head snaps toward me. “What?”
My cheeks heat as I push out the question. “Do you think we’ll need to kiss on Saturday? You know… so it looks like a real relationship.”
He stills. “No.” A beat passes before he amends, “I don’t know. Maybe?”
I swallow. “Should we, like, practice or something?”
The words hang between us, heavy and impossible to take back.
Slowly, he turns his body more fully to mine. “I’m sorry. You want to practice kissing?”
Oh my God. Why did I say that?
“It’s not like I want to,” I blurt as heat climbs up my neck. “I just— If it happens, we don’t want it to be awkward.” I tuck my legs beneath me, trying to look unaffected when I’m anything but. “It won’t be very convincing if it looks like we’ve never actually kissed before.”
The silence that falls over us is thick and suffocating. Just when it feels like it’ll shatter, his gaze drops to my mouth, and my breath catches before his attention returns to my eyes.
When his jaw flexes, I think he might actually agree. Anticipation spools low in my belly, my body going still in response.
With an exhale, he drags a hand through his hair. “No.”
Everything inside me crashes at the flat response.
“Right. Yeah.” I nod, as if he didn’t just annihilate me on the spot. “It was just an idea.”
I turn back to the TV, pretending to watch, all the while silently plotting a way out of this embarrassing mess.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
My eyes widen as I glance at him. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t know… Maybe you’re right. We might have to kiss. It’s probably a good idea for us to practice.”
Our gazes lock, and my pulse stutters. He doesn’t smile or crack a joke as he repositions himself on the couch before lifting his hand and tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
His fingers graze my cheek, and it’s tempting to lean into his touch.
I shift, trying to scoot closer. It feels like my heart will pound right out of my chest before his lips ever touch mine.
Why am I so nervous?
It’s just a kiss.
No big deal.
He doesn’t rush the moment. It’s almost as if he’s giving me time to pump the brakes and put a stop to it. But that’s not going to happen. Over the years, I’ve wondered what it would feel like to kiss Knox McNichols.
So now that I have a legit excuse to do it, I’m going through with it. I’m dying to know if he’s as skilled as all the tabloids claim.
Unsure where to place my hands, they tentatively settle on his chest. And, yes, it’s just as hard as I suspected it would be. His blue eyes darken as he leans in, stopping less than an inch away, until I can feel the warmth of his breath ghost across my lips.
Everything inside me quiets as his thumb rests lightly along my jaw.
“One kiss,” he murmurs.
Yes. One kiss. That’s it.
I’m sure it’ll be bad, maybe awkward, and I’ll never think about it again.
In the end, this will be a good thing.
When he doesn’t move, I take the initiative and close the distance between us until my mouth can feather across his.
It’s a soft, barely-there caress.
I inhale, and the sound seems to ripple through him.
His lips linger against mine, and the rush of sensation that spirals through me is almost dizzying.
When the velvety softness of his tongue sweeps along the seam of my lips, I open.
It’s not a conscious decision. More like instinct.
With a groan, his fingers slide into my hair, threading through the thick strands as he tilts my head just enough to deepen the kiss.
With my palms pressed against his chest, I’m able to feel the heavy beat of his heart. The world narrows to the warmth of his mouth and the way he fits against me. A low sound escapes him when my fingers drift to his shoulders.
That’s all it takes for me to forget this is about practice.
He kisses me like he’s been holding back for years and is doing his best not to lose control.
Heat floods through me and my breathing turns unsteady.
My fingers curl into his shirt, as if it’s possible to anchor myself to him and the moment unfolding between us. If I don’t, I’ll probably float away.
Knox makes a rough sound before jerking back. There’s a rush of air between us as I blink up at him, feeling slightly dazed as my lips continue to tingle.
He clears his throat. “I think that’s enough.”
My thoughts spin as I stare at him. All I want to do is lean in and kiss him again, just to see if it would feel as good as the first time.
“Are you sure?”
His jaw tightens as my hand lifts to graze my lips, trying to steady myself. But it’s impossible.
“Yeah, I am.” He pops to his feet. “Actually, I’m pretty beat. I’m going to call it a night. Feel free to watch TV for as long as you want.”
Before I can even open my mouth, he turns, disappearing down the hallway. A second later, the soft click of his bedroom door echoes through the space.
What the hell just happened?
The bigger question is… do I want it to happen again?