2022 WATTYS SHORTLISTED || After being forced into a marriage by her devoutly religious parents, Aspen's husband is diagnosed with a life-limiting illness, and she must find her purpose as well as fight feelings for her husband's nurse. || Aspen Wat...
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"Aspen, I really want to kiss you," Nick says.
He closes the gap between us, his scent picking up and driving my mind insane. I rest my hand carefully on his chest, the black fabric of his t-shirt in the way of where I wish I could touch. My eyes stay on his as my hand moves slowly up to his cheek. It's smooth until I hit where his stubble starts. His breath hitches when my eyes fall to his lips.
Every single inhibition flies away, and I give in to temptation.
"Then kiss me," I respond.
This is cheating. This is one of the deadly sins: lust. I've just failed the test. He hasn't even kissed me yet, but I know now that I've given permission, he will. And I'll enjoy it.
The desire makes me feel warm like I'm in spring.
This is coveting. It's against the very foundations of the Church of England.
But I don't care.
Nick smiles and cups my cheek again. He stares into my eyes, and as if he was a wizard, he gently guides me closer to him, so our bodies are pressed together. My gaze drops back down to his lips. They're parted a little, and his breath fans down on mine. I want to quicken the pace and finally draw them together like a dot-to-dot drawing, but this moment feels too precious to speed up. I savour every millisecond of these perfect few moments of studying him like a map.
His soft lips finally meet mine. When I close my eyes to enjoy his touch, I feel like I'm touching a cloud made of candyfloss. The way his mouth moulds to mine is like the perfect fit, and I've finally found my home on the map. He pulls away slowly, and my mouth tingles from the lack of contact.
"Aspen—"
"Sh," I whisper and look into his eyes. They're chanting a spell when he looks at me, and he knows it. I snake my arms around his neck and pull him in for another kiss, my mouth needing more like he's the only shelter in a storm. He reminds me of spring afternoons in the park and blossom petals raining over me like confetti. He makes my skin come to life when his marshmallow lips mould with mine to make one perfect cloud.
His hand falls to my waist, and he gently squeezes my skin before opening his mouth to deepen the kiss with his tongue. I respond with as much passion and desire as he's giving off, and I feel the cool wall behind my back where he's guided me backwards.
I feel the heat roll off his hand as it slides around my waist, under my top. The heat ignites the butterflies in my stomach to break their chrysalises and escape, fluttering the desire all around me until a soft groan escapes my mouth into his.
A hard buzz on the table pulls him away.
"Fuck."
He grabs my phone from the table and smirks awkwardly as I take it. Monica's calling.
