I’m always up for helping someone out, so I lean forward and plant a nice kiss right on his lips. I figure if he wants to see my acting skills, then he’s in for a real treat. I’m a kindergarten teacher for God’s sake. I have to pretend that boogers don’t freak me out. I listen to parents tell me how brilliant their children are on a regular basis, and never say that they are actually average. I’m a freaking academy award-winning actress.
When my lips touch his, I feel a moment of hesitation and then he moves in for the best kiss award in tonight’s performance. I open my mouth slightly to say something, and he slips in his tongue. I’m kissing Miles Stevenson in a public restaurant, and he doesn’t even know my name.
His tongue tangles with mine. His kisses taste like wine––very expensive wine. His lips linger as if he’s savoring something rare. When he pulls away, I feel slightly weak-kneed and light-headed.
“I’ve been waiting, what took you so long to get here?” he asks in a voice that booms over the noise of the restaurant. Oh, he’s good.
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