The Perfect Kiss

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My eyes lingered into his dark browns as I thought about the beautiful night we’d spent together over a quiet dinner at an outdoor café. We’d laughed, he’d serenaded me with sappy poetry, and toward the end of dinner he’d given me a white rose. How was it that he could make such a simple night so memorable? Perhaps that was why I loved him. 

     The cool, crisp night air brushed over by bare shoulders, sending a shiver down my back, interrupting my thoughts. His face had drawn closer to mine, and I inhaled his heat and faint, musky scent of soap and cheap cologne. His slender, but firm, masculine hands trailed over my shoulder blades as he embraced me gently. My heart pounded and my eyes fluttered shut. A small breath escaped my parting lips, then something warm touched them. His taste was addicting and sweeter than candy. I pressed my lips into his, urging for more, and he responded with a slight tilt of his head to deepen the kiss. His hands caressed my burning cheeks and traced down my jaw line. The sound of the gentle smacking of our lips echoed in my ears. I had become lost in the kiss—lost in his love.

     His taste soon left my lips, and the heat of his face lifted from mine. The scent of the night filled my nostrils once more. I opened my eyes, staring at his moonlit face, wondering if what I felt was but a dream or simple wishful thinking.

     “You once told me that you had never been kissed,” he said. “I hope this one was okay for your first time.”

     My heart fluttered. ‘Okay’?! I smiled so broad my cheeks hurt. “It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

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