Free Project Produce by Kari Lee Harmon

tongue.
    Sweet Jesus . I mentally made the sign of the cross.
    I couldn’t speak. His nearness overwhelmed me. He slid his hand up my back and plunged it into my hair, looking at me in question. My heart skipped a beat. I wanted him to kiss me again, bad idea or not. He stared into my eyes, and I saw a desire as powerful as my own. Grabbing his face again, I pulled his head down to mine, then laid another one on him.
    His goatee felt like silk, caressing my cheeks and chin. I never thought I’d like a man with facial hair, but on Dylan, it fit. Kissing him was pure heaven, but one of us had to at least try to stop this madness.
    “I’ve wanted to do this all evening,” he whispered. His voice sounded husky, then he traced my lips with his tongue.
    “B-But I’m not ready.” I gave one last ditch effort. I didn’t want to get involved, didn’t want to be in another relationship anytime soon. Maybe never.
    “No pressure. It’s just a kiss.” His mouth swooped down over mine this time.
    No pressure. Just a kiss . I could handle that. I moaned, and he deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue inside to circle my own. Shock waves coursed through my mouth, rippled down my back, beat in places it had no business beating again, then turned my legs to rubber and curled my toes. Spice came to mind. He tasted like sinful spices and decadent chocolate all rolled into one intoxicating package.
    I never wanted him to stop.
    He cradled my face in his masculine hands, and I felt cherished and special. My arms wound around his neck all by their little lonesome, then my hands slipped under his short ponytail. As my body bumped into his, I noted how well we fit together. For the first time ever, I felt thankful for being tall. I should have stopped him, but I ceased to think when his palms slid down my back and cupped my big ole insecurity, pulling me to his cue stick.
    Rack’em , shot through my brain.
    Good Lord, I had a problem. And right now, that problem was fondling my backside. The zucchini I felt pressed up against me was further proof that he in no way resembled little David. Thank God . I didn’t care what anyone said.
    Size mattered.
    Wait a minute. Are we moving ? I thought as he slowly, but surely, backed me down the hall toward what could only be his bedroom. I tore myself away from him, my chest heaving as fast as his. “What happened to no pressure? Just a kiss?”
    “That’s all we did was kiss.” He tried for a smile but couldn’t quite pull one off.
    “Riiiight.” Even if his kiss had rocked me right down to my core, things were moving way too fast. I couldn’t do this. Not again. And not with him. He was different, somehow. I didn’t think I could handle being used by him.
    I stepped back, and we stood on opposite sides of the wall, staring at each other in the middle of his hallway. I didn’t know what to say, so I tore my gaze away from his and tried to clear my head.
He spoke first. “About that kiss--”
“Bad idea, I know. Can I use your bathroom?”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but he pointed down the hall by his bedroom.
    Once inside, I closed the door and leaned my head against it, fighting to catch my breath. He was a cop, not a loser. And he’d seemed sincere when he’d said he wanted to help me figure men out. I had to admit, up until this point, he’d been a gentleman. Could I blame him for responding after I talked about winkie sizes and then kissed him? Maybe he was different.
    I turned around to wash my hands and froze.
    Or maybe he was a scumbucket like all the other men I’d dated. I gritted my teeth and stared at a copy of a girlie magazine in the bathroom trash. Every time I dared to have hope, the frustrating species let me down, reinforcing what I’d already discovered too many times to count. Men could not be trusted.
    I stepped out of the bathroom and his open bedroom door caught my eye. There was a desk pushed up against a wall with a computer on it, and an issue