Sip by Sip

Chapter Ninety: Finally Amirite?

His lips brushed against hers, his hand moving to her cheek where he could feel her skin burning underneath his fingers. She tilted her head, pressing into the kiss.

Her thoughts were scattered, and miles from ever being able to string along a sensible sentence. Noah couldn't think of anything other than her.

But what they felt was short lived, due to a certain interruption.

A man walked in through the door beside them, startled both of them into pulling away. Both of their cheeks were flushed, Noah scratching the back of his neck and Gemma standing with her lips parted in an O shape.

They both were speechless. The man was not.

"Oh, get a room." He grumbled, pushing past them.

She moved her hand to her lips, as if to confirm she had just been kissed, and then to her cheeks, pressing against her hot skin.

He ran a hand through his hair, and Gemma tugged at a curl.

They couldn't meet each others eyes, so they stood a few feet apart, awkwardly sneaking glances of each other. Eventually Gemma ran outside to cool off, and Noah let out an amazed breath.

Not only was the kiss infinitely better than he'd imagined, but she was a good kisser.

A really good kisser.

Sure, there was some fumbling at first, because he had taken her by surprise, and both their lips were chapped from the cold, but he barely remembered it. And sure, it was a gentle kiss, as if testing the waters, and it was short, but he didn't care. He had already memorized the moment as perfect.

And as he looked up after her, he caught her grinning, a giddy smile as she pushed some hair out of her face. She caught his eye, and waved an awkward goodbye before running off.

He was left with the strangest feeling, he couldn't quite place it . . . .

Until he could.

He recognized it as lust. Longing, longing for more.

He wanted more of her lips against his own, more of the feeling of not knowing what to think, more of the terrifying fear of falling.