I close my eyes. Her lips taste of alcohol and raspberries and cherry chapstick. They’re strong and soft and make me forget my own name. She isn’t just a good kisser; she is to kissing what Da Vinci is to art or what Chanel is to fashion. The best.
She gives me perfect, blissful, gentle kisses that dissolve like hot sherbet onto my lips. So light that they make tingles rush down my spine and my lips feel like they’re in heaven. Her kisses spark fireworks inside my chest, and I feel them explode inside of me, filling my veins with flames and sparkling, tingling glitter. I feel her smile into the kiss, her breath tickling me, and I relax. I’m too drunk to care about tomorrow or what people might say or even how I feel. I just want her to continue to kiss me like this.
Because this isn’t fast or scary or in a filthy hotel room. Her hands aren’t clawing at my back or ripping off my clothes, they’re curled around my waist, pulling me closer to her. Her body isn’t sweaty or heavy or forceful, her skin is flawless and warm and her cheeks are slightly blushed. She doesn’t pant or moan, instead her breaths are tiny and taste of sweet alcohol on my tongue.
So I kiss her back. I kiss her slowly and gently, like I love her. Damn, I do love her. I wrap my hands in her hair and feel it run like silk through my fingers.
She pulls away from me, I open my eyes, her lips still tantalisingly close to mine, our noses touching. She raises a hand and runs the edge of her thumb across my lips. Her gaze is steady and serious. Her pupils are huge as though she’s high, or frightened.
“Cheryl?” I breathe. I can feel her hot breath coating my lips.
“I love you” she whispers, quietly, shyly. Then she closes her eyes. I wonder if anyone could paint something so beautiful. I look at her long, impossibly dark eyelashes and the faint splattering of pale freckles that drip across her nose, as though someone has flicked some paint across her nose. Her cheeks are touched with pink and her lips are slightly parted.
“M’asleep” she murmurs quietly, snuggling closer to me. I can feel her body heat, her skin against my own. I close my eyes, but I can tell that she’s still there, right beside me.
“Okay babe. Sleep good.” I breathe back.
xxx
“I love you.” Her words from last night still spin around my head. I sit up, and the room is still spinning.
“Oh god” I murmur, and fall back down against the hot pillows. The sun is streaming through the light curtains, and it hurts my eyes, making them water.
“You okay Kim?” she whispers sleepily, kissing my neck gently.
“No” I whisper back. She half props herself up on one elbow, looking at me.
“Hungover?” she pouts. I raise a hand to my head, trying to stop it from spinning.
“A bit” I murmur, and she looks sympathetically up at me.
“Oh babe...”
“This is bad Cheryl. This is bad.”
“You’ll be okay, come back to sleep” she pats the bed beside her. But I just shake my head.
“No” I whisper “I’m so sorry Cheryl”
“What?” she blinks at me, and wraps her tiny hands in my vest, trying to pull me back down onto the bed beside her.
“No” I wriggle away from her to the other side of the huge bed.
“Kim, I don’t...I don’t understand...” she pouts, making puppy eyes up at me.
