Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
But unlike the kisses of old, where we fumbled and learned, this kiss was different. It was hot. Desperate. Filled with need. There was no fumbling, no banging of teeth or inexperienced tongue. This was hot and wet, knowing, and explosive. It was like a match being dropped onto dry wood—a raging bonfire waiting to happen. He tugged me closer, beginning to pull me over the threshold of his apartment. I knew once he had me inside and the door shut, I was lost.
With a gasp, I pulled back, stepping away and staring at Oliver. His hair was messy from my hands, his lips wet from mine. He was breathing hard, his eyes filled with desire. Intent.
“I just wanted to give you some pie,” I mumbled, sounding crazy. I could barely think clearly.
He stepped forward, his hand beckoning. “Come inside, and we’ll talk.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”
I turned and ran down the steps, praying he didn’t follow. I wouldn’t have the strength to resist him.
I never would.
Oliver
I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. I couldn’t get Kassie off my mind. I relived that kiss over and over in my head. The way it felt to hold her again. To feel her molded against my body. The way her mouth felt underneath mine. Tasted under my tongue. It broke open the dam of feelings that had been slowly leaking, a little every time I saw her, an image or thought breaking through, making itself alive and familiar in my head once again.
I met Kassie the day we moved to Richton. She lived next door, the only thing separating us a small white fence with half the pickets missing. My mother and father moved us here when I was six. Kassie lived with her mom, who was widowed. My mother sent me out to the backyard, trying to keep me out of the way while she and my father unpacked boxes. I spied a swing set and, without a thought, slipped through the hole in the fence and began to swing. Not long after I did, a little girl in overalls appeared in front of me, her hands on her hips. She had red-gold ringlets and pale-colored eyes. “Hey, that’s my swing.”
I slowed down, dragging my feet in the grass, and stood from the swing. I towered over the little girl, but she didn’t back down.
“Who are you?” she demanded, glaring up at me.
“I’m Oliver.” I pointed to the little house next door. “We just moved in. Who are you?”
“I’m Kassie. I live here.” She studied me for a moment then smiled. “Do you want to be my friend? You can use my swing. And my mom made cookies today.”
I loved cookies. “Sure.”
That was the start of us as friends. Kassie was my best buddy. My playmate and my rock. Our moms became friends. I was at her house as much as she was at mine. As my parents’ marriage collapsed, probably more. Her house was quieter. No one yelled or slammed doors. Even after my father walked out on us, I preferred it at Kassie’s.
She was there.
At school, I was her protector. She was always small, and my mom had told me once that I needed to look after her. I always did what my mother said. I stood up to her bullies, fought many a battle, and ended up in the principal’s office more than once.
Kassie supported me, no matter what. She joined the drama club just because I loved it. She painted sets, ran lines, cheered me on from the auditorium at every school performance. We were each other’s soft place. Friends forever.
Until I turned fifteen.
She wept the day she saw me kiss Barb Jones. I didn’t understand why until I saw her walking away with Jim Dixon a few days later. I was furious. Hurt. Confused.
Later that night, I found her on her old swing set in the backyard, pushing back and forth on her toes, staring at the ground.
I stood in front of her. “So you like Jim now?”
She looked up, her eyes red. “Why do you care?”
“Because he’s an idiot. I don’t like him.”
“Whatever,” she sighed. “Go back to kissing Barb.”
“I don’t wanna kiss Barb.”
“That’s not what it looked like to me.”
“She kissed me first, and I kissed her back to try it.”
She waved me off. “Go away, Oliver.”
“No.”
“Then I’ll leave.”
She brushed past me, and I wrapped my hand around her bicep. “No, don’t go. Please.”
She wiped a tear rolling down her cheek. “What do you want?” she choked out.
I stared at her with new eyes. When had she become so pretty? Had those freckles always been there? Standing this close to her, I felt her breasts, hidden under a loose shirt, pressed against my arm. I kept staring at her mouth. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.