“I’m glad I met you today,” he murmurs. “You’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.”
I frown, jerking my gaze up to his. “Me?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not fascinating.”
“I’ve never seen someone think so loud or wear their emotions so plainly on their face before.”
I’m that obvious to him? To other people?
“I should text my mom,” I grumble, rolling onto my back.
My screensaver is a picture of me and Julian. It hurts to look at it. I swipe my phone, quickly finding Mom’s contact info.
Me: I’m at a friend’s but I’ll be home by dinner.
Mom: Who? Which friend? Are you okay?
The urgency in her text confuses me.
Me: Kit Strong. His mom wants to have dinner with us tomorrow. She forced me to give her your number.
She doesn’t respond for a long moment even though the dots start and stop several times. Finally, she responds.
Mom: Take your time, sweetie. Enjoy your friend. We can eat without you if you’re having fun.
Me: I can’t miss meatloaf tonight.
Mom: There’ll always be leftovers. Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never heard of this boy. Is he nice?
Me: He’s nice.
Mom: What’s he look like?
Kit scoots closer, nosily reading our texts. “She’s like my mom.”
A chuckle escapes me. “Yeah, I guess they’re all the same.”
“I like your laugh,” Kit murmurs, his breath hot and tickling my cheek.
“I like yours too.”
“Take a picture.” He leans over and I know he’s cheesin’ without having to look at him.
Flipping the camera to selfie mode, I find that my lips are curling into a grin when I see how ridiculous Kit is being with his too big smile. He reaches forward and mashes the button.
I send it to Mom.
Me: Oh, honey, he’s adorable. Have fun. Don’t let me bother you two.
“Can you send it to me?” Kit asks.
I hand my phone to him and he sets to texting himself the picture. I’m mildly annoyed when he also changes the screensaver on my phone. But, each time I look at the picture of Kit’s goofy grin, I smile too.
“Hey, Jasper?”
I set my phone on my stomach and turn to look at him. “Mmm?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”JasperHis green-blue eyes sparkle with delight. Of all the guys I’ve kissed, not one has looked at me like I’m special and worthy and unique. My breath hitches when he lowers his pink, pink strawberry lips to mine.
I need the sweetness.
I need his lips.
Before he reaches me, his grin quirks up on one side as his fingers run through my hair. My hair, like Julian’s was, is light brown and wavy. Mom would get onto us when it got too long. Mine hangs over my brows lately, curling slightly around my ears and at my nape, but she doesn’t complain.
Mom doesn’t complain about anything when it comes to me anymore.
Before I’m allowed to ponder why, Kit’s lips are on mine firm and demanding. I groan, not at all surprised at his insistence. Though Kit is colorful and loud and adorably dorky, he’s absolutely my type.
Confident. Forward. Energetic.
I need someone to counteract all my wrongness. Someone opposite. Warmth to my cold. Light to my dark. Good to my…whatever it is I am.
My lips part to allow his tongue entry. We both moan when our kiss intensifies. I feel as though Kit is trying to consume me. I like it. So much. His fingers spear into my hair, tugging and stroking. It makes me want to touch him too. I run my own fingers through his hair, loving how his curls spring up once they come loose from my grip.
He pulls away, my bottom lip caught between his teeth. I’m shocked by the sting of it and pop my eyes open. Fiery intensity blazes in his eyes that seem more green than blue at the moment. His smile is gone, even after he releases me from his bite. We’re both panting hard and I’m hard as a rock in my jeans.
I want to rip his shirt off.
To go down on him.
Beg him to do the same to me.
I want him.
“Anyone ever tell you your gray eyes are stormy?” he murmurs, pecking my lips and then my cheek and then my nose.
“Mom calls them my gloomy clouds. She says every gloomy cloud is gifted a rainbow.”
His smile flashes across his face, bathing me in its warm light. “I like that.”
“I like you,” I murmur, pulling him to me again.
We kiss urgently for what feels like hours. My lips are raw and my jaw aches. Somehow while we made out, we each ended up on our sides, our legs tangled while our free hands explored. Each time his fingers tease at my belt line on my lower stomach, I feel like I’ll nut in my pants. He knows it too because he grins wider each time.
“You want me to touch you,” he murmurs. “Don’t you?”