Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  She sat down next to him, so close not even a wisp of air could pass between their bodies, and thumbed through the book for the poem she wanted while Ezra held it in his lap. Walt, seeming to recognize the volume, settled on the other side of the coffee table and attentively waited with his ears up. Benny followed suit, looking slightly less excited than his counterpart.

  “Walt likes poetry too, doesn’t he?” Ezra asked, smiling as the dog tilted his head to the side at the mention of his name.

  “I raised him well,” Emily remarked as she continued to search. Her voice was still scratchy, but she seemed remarkably more composed than she did a few minutes prior. Ezra hoped that after a few poems, her playful side might reappear. “And named him after a poet.”

  “Walt Whitman.” Ezra shook his head, wondering why he hadn’t realized this sooner. “I should have known. I thought Walt was an unusual name for a dog.”

  Emily pointed the page that lay open. “This is the one. It was one of our favorites.”

  Ezra drew in a nervous breath, hoping this was the right thing to do. Throughout the day, he’d seen glimpses of happiness in Emily. She’d smile, make a joke, and talk jovially about her and Walt’s escapades; but, otherwise she seemed incredibly fragile. He couldn’t help but wonder if reading this poem might be what finally pushed her over the edge into total despair.

  But he felt like he had to do something.

  After clearing his throat and wrapping an arm around Emily’s narrow shoulders, he began to read, “Hope is a thing with feathers- that perches in the soul.” Ezra continued on slowly, letting each line seep in before he moved to the next.

  Silence reigned again after he finished reading. Not sure what to do or how to gauge Emily’s quiet reaction, he went through his mental rolodex to see what Dickinson poems he remembered from school. If he could think of one that didn’t deal explicitly with death, as many of them did, perhaps he could find it to read while Emily continued processing.

  “Thank you,” she finally said, patting her face with her duster sleeve again. “It was beautiful.”

  Ezra noted a reddish stain on the page. “You two read this one often. I can tell.”

  “We read this poem almost every time we cooked together. One of us would man the stove, while the other picked the poems.”

  “Shall we choose another?” he asked, already turning back to the table of contents.

  Emily rested a hand on his thigh a split second before she touched her lips to Ezra’s cheek. His skin instantly heated where she kissed him, and his heartbeat kicked into high gear. After, Ezra expected Emily to lean back into the couch and pick another poem. Instead, she continued to kiss along his jawline.

  His mouth went dry and he swallowed hard.

  This wasn’t at all how he expected their poetry reading to go.

  7:45 PM

  As she pressed feather light kisses to Ezra’s jaw, Emily’s heart pounded so loudly it’s steady, albeit quick-paced rhythm rung in her ears. She kept one hand planted on his thigh while the other rested in her lap. She was aware her palms were sweating, and she hoped Ezra didn’t notice. Surely a man as handsome and charismatic as he had been seduced by women far more she skilled than she.

  Is that what I’m doing? Emily pondered. Am I seducing Ezra?

  Though she still didn’t feel at peace with her mother’s passing, she wanted to get to that point. She wanted to read Emily Dickinson and fondly remember the many times she’d sat down with her mom to do the same. She wanted to make her old family recipes and see her mother’s gorgeous handwriting without being reduced to tears.

  After all, Ginny Scott would be heartbroken if she knew how deeply her death affected her daughter. She’d always encouraged Emily to chase her happiness, supporting her poetic pursuits when most parents might have viewed her artistic medium of choice as a dead end.

  “Emily,” Ezra started as she kissed his chin. This time his voice was shaky. “What’re you doing?”

  She lifted her chin an inch, leveling her mouth with his and looking up at him through her eyelashes. “I don’t know.” She’d been emboldened by her decision to start the process of letting go, and she surprisingly felt good about it. It felt like that was all she knew in that moment. “Thanking you for helping me. Celebrating the newly stoked flicker of joy in my heart. Chasing my own happiness.”

  He chewed his bottom lip. Would he try to resist her or would he give in to what she knew he wanted?

  “I don’t want you to do anything you’d regret. Not today. Not while you’re working through your grief.”

  But this time, Emily refused to shy away. “I want this.” She inched closer, her lips barely brushing his as she spoke. “I want you. I want to be happy with you. This is right. Doesn’t it feel like we ran into each other today for a reason?”

  Ezra lifted the arm he’d draped around her shoulders and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We both needed someone and found each other.”

  “Kiss me.” Her stern tone conveyed the command without sounding desperate or pleading.

  Ezra’s heavy, wine-scented exhale caressed her lips. “You’re sure? We could read more poems and finish dinner, and I’d still consider this one of the best nights of my life.”

  Emily knew all she had to do was say the word, and then he’d be hers. “I’m sure.”

  Slowly and with intention, he cupped her cheek. She leaned in and shut her eyes. The simple touch of his hand felt like magic, warm and electric. She didn’t know if her poet’s imagination could put into words all the feelings he’d stirred inside her.

  Ezra closed the remaining distance between them. Their kiss was sweet and tender, filling her chest with a tingly heat she’d never experienced before. It reminded her of the feeling she got each time she’d kissed someone else the first time, but amplified by one hundred. Not wanting Ezra to pull away, she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place.

  Ezra parted his lips and kissed her again, more deeply this time, with passion and purpose. He slid his tongue into her mouth, swirling it with hers. A deep purr vibrated in her throat. She’d never made such a sound before and knew it a side effect of being kissed so expertly. In the past, she’d overthought all forms of intimacy. Were her hands in the right position? Should she be using them to stoke his back or comb through his hair? When would he decide to take things further? Would she be ready? With Ezra, she had none of these thoughts. Her brain had been rendered useless by pleasure.

  He lightly pressed both of his hands to her collarbone, gently guiding her back to lay on the couch and never once breaking their kiss. Emily nipped at his lips as they moved, letting him know she liked the change of position. To avoid crushing her much smaller frame with his full weight, Ezra kept one foot anchored on the floor. Even though he hadn’t fully laid atop her, his warmth blanketed Emily, making her feel safe and turning her on in equal measure.

  “Is this all right?” he whispered between kisses, his voice light and breathy. Emily only nodded in response, not wanting to talk when she could be tangling her tongue with his. He adjusted his position slightly to rest on a forearm, using his newly freed hand to caress every part of her he could reach. The shift had left his erection pressing into her thigh. Its heat filled her with satisfaction and anticipation.

  Spurred on, Emily hooked a leg behind Ezra’s back to tug him closer. She began pulling at her duster, struggling out of it as she lay on her back with Ezra above her. Their closeness was no longer enough to satisfy her. She needed to feel his skin on hers. Once she’d removed her arms from the sleeves, she made clumsy work of unbuttoning Ezra’s flannel shirt. When she finished, he sat up and shrugged it off.

  “Where is your bedroom?”

  Emily jerked her head in the right direction. “Down the hallway. Last door on the left.” Ezra scooped her into his arms and started down the hall, leaving his discarded shirt and her duster where they lay. Emily sealed her lips to Ezra’s neck and kissed him as
he navigated her small house, maneuvering around corners and furniture. Her fingers itched with the desire to remove more articles of clothing, but she couldn’t take anything off either of them while being carried. Luckily, they didn’t have far to go.

  Once they were inside the bedroom, Ezra laid Emily on the mattress and resumed a position similar to the one they were in on the couch, only now they had more room to work with. Ezra planted his knees alongside her hips, his erection nestled perfectly into the apex of her legs. Every time Emily ground her hips against him, his member twitched. She slid her hands beneath his white T-shirt, exploring the muscled planes of his abdomen and chest before fisting the cotton and tugging it upward. Obliging her, Ezra sat up and tossed off the T-shirt. His torso was all tight muscle with the occasional sprinkling of light hair. Emily reached up, hooked her fingers in the waistband of his jeans, and tugged him back down to her, unable to stand the distance between them even though it meant she got a glimpse of just how beautiful he was under his clothes.

  Ezra was perfection, from top to bottom. His body, his face, his hair, his heart. Everything.

  Emily skated her fingertips across his waistband until they landed on his fly. She undid the button then the zipper before realizing that other than losing her duster, she was still fully clothed. That wouldn’t do. She slid her palms up his front, slowly gliding over each knotted muscle and taking a few seconds to savor the feel of him before pushing him back up to sit with untamed enthusiasm. Emily was greedy to explore their connection, to see what it felt like to have Ezra inside her.

  Like he’d been reading her mind, Ezra pulled of her shirt as soon as she sat up to join him. With a quick flick of his fingers, he unhooked her bra before tossing it to the floor in their growing pile of discarded clothing. Emily wrapped her arms around his mid-section, pulling him tight as she kissed a haphazard, meandering pattern on his chest. His sweat-misted skin felt heavenly against hers, their bodies molding together like they were made for one another.

  Curling his thumbs beneath her chin, Ezra lifted her lips back to meet his. Together, without prompting, they began struggling out of their jeans. It was like they’d shared the single thought, their brains working in tandem. Continuing that trend, they both crawled off the bed to finish removing their pants and under garments when kneeling on the multicolored quilt was no longer conducive to disrobing.

  Before tossing his jeans to the floor, Ezra procured his wallet from the back pocket. He opened it and rifled in the various folds before extracting a condom. While he searched, Emily took the opportunity to scan his tall frame. He wasn’t cut like an athlete or slim like a movie star, but he was perfect in every way a regular guy could be. He was muscular, healthy, and trim. Emily’s gaze caught on his member, full and thick, now bobbing by his belly. The sight made her mouth water.

  This is really happening, she thought. This beautiful, wondrous event is about to take place on the worst day of the year.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Ezra asked again. When Emily looked up, he was wearing the same cocky smirk he’d had on when he’d been flirting with her at the dog park. She smiled back, knowing he’d caught her starring. Typically, she’d be embarrassed by such a blatant display of sexual interest, but she didn’t care with Ezra. She wanted him; he wanted her.

  She placed a hand over his heart. “Help me ring in this new chapter of my life.”

  Ezra cupped a hand over hers. “It would be, up until this point, the greatest honor of my life.”

  Emily stretched up onto her toes and planted a chaste, lingering kiss to his lips, not unlike the one they’d first shared in the living room. Sweet, tender, and loaded with so much emotion she thought she might cry just from the sheer force of it all. But, before she could get too caught up in the heart-rending intricacies of the moment, they were moving toward the bed. In a series of movements Emily was too drunk off lust to register, she found herself flat on her back with Ezra again bracing himself above her. His member was nestled into her sex, teasing her with its warmth and closeness. The muscles in her lower body relaxed, ready to accommodate him. She clutched his shoulders and waited as the sounds of their quick, panted breaths filled the room.

  With subtle shift of his hips, Ezra pushed through Emily’s outer folds and entered her with a slow, languorous thrust that gave her body time to adapt to his size. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, savoring the delicious fullness. After several tantalizing seconds, he’d slid in to the hilt. He paused there briefly before making an equally slow and enjoyable retreat. Emily writhed beneath him, swaying her hips and intensifying their mutual pleasure.

  Ezra continued in a similar fashion, sliding in and out of her with satisfying strokes. His speed increased with each thrust until he moved so fast the bed began shifting with their bodies. Emily moaned and cried, unable to contain the sounds emanating from deep in the pit of her belly. She wound her arms around Ezra’s neck, pulling him closer as she felt her release start to build in her core. Everything around her went fuzzy – she couldn’t hear anything other than her own heartbeat. She couldn’t feel anything other than the whirling of unbearable sensations growing inside her. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to delay the onslaught of pleasure at the same time she willed it to come. Something exploded in her core like a firework, sending ripples of searing satisfaction in all directions. A shudder from above let her know Ezra was in the throes of his orgasm, too. He sank lower, his torso resting on hers, covering her with his sweaty, quivering body.

  They came together like that—wrapped in each other’s arms and acceptance, solidifying the connection they’d fostered lovingly on the one day neither of them had expected to find romance.

  FEBRUARY 13TH

  TWO YEARS LATER

  Emily stepped up to the podium, her eyes darting around the room at the leagues of people who had turned out for the event. From where Ezra stood a few feet away, he could see the paper shake in her hands. When her gaze met his, he flashed a reassuring smile. Relief flooded his chest when she reciprocated with a smile of her own.

  Her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath and then she started.

  “Good evening neighbors, friends, and family. Welcome to the very first reading and signing by up-and-coming author Ezra Cavanaugh. His latest novel, Her Darkness, was released on the first of this month and has quickly climbed bestseller charts. For those of you who have already read the book, you probably noticed Emily Dickinson’s famous poem ‘Hope is a thing with feathers’ printed before the prologue. Ezra has asked me to read it for you tonight.”

  As Emily unfolded the sheet of paper she’d printed the poem on, Ezra fought the urge to cry. Before he met Emily, Ezra hadn’t shed a tear since his childhood. Their relationship had opened him up, allowing him to access emotions he hadn’t known he had the ability to experience.

  He owed his career to Emily. Helping her through her loss taught Ezra about empathy. Her recovery inspired the story behind his best-selling novel. Without her, he’d probably still be working at the bookstore. Instead, he was having his first book signing there.

  The restoration had gone well. Sam added an expansion to the original building, allowing him to host game nights, book clubs, writing classes, and author events. He’d gotten more business than ever. Ezra taught a creative writing workshop every few weeks, and Emily taught a weekly poetry writing class.

  She’d started writing poems again about a year ago. The first few were about her mom. Most were joyous accounts of the profound love she had for the woman who raised her, and only some touched on the difficult time she had letting go. Now Emily wrote about the things that made her happy. Ezra had been pushing her to start submitting her work to literary magazines, knowing very well she’d need the encouragement to even consider it. She was still resistant to the idea, but Ezra knew she’d come around. He’d seen her looking at submission guidelines on her laptop just the other night.

  Ezra originally asked Emily to read o
ne of her poems to open the event, but she refused. He didn’t force the issue and understood why she wasn’t ready for something which still left her feel vulnerable. She opted to read her favorite poem instead—the one she associated with the two people she loved the most.

  Despite her nervousness, Emily read the poem with ease. Reciting it had become second nature for her. She didn’t need the sheet she’d printed off. It was only there in case she faltered. Ezra urged her to pick a poem that wouldn’t arise a strong emotional reaction, but Emily insisted it was the right one to read. It meant something to her, just like he meant something to her.

  Polite applause followed her reading and she bowed her head in thanks. Her lips spread into a slow, satisfied smile of relief. Emily had held it together.

  She curled the paper into a funnel and leaned back into the mic. “With no further ado, allow me to introduce, my husband, Ezra Cavanaugh.”

  Everyone got up out of their folding chairs and put down their plastic wine glasses to give him a proper round of applause. He approached the podium, pausing to embrace his wife.

  He wrapped his hands around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You did great.”

  “Thanks. It felt good.” She pulled back and smiled, her hands resting on his upper arms. “Good luck. I don’t think you’ll need it, though.” She peeked over her shoulder at the still clapping crowd.

  With a hook of his finger under her chin, Ezra urged Emily to face him again. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  He told her that almost every day. If it weren’t for Emily, Ezra knew he’d still be writing stories without an emotional core. She’d taught him to feel.

  “Today’s not about us.” She fixed his collar, downplaying her contributions to his life and his craft as she always did. “That’s what tomorrow is for.”

  Emily had decided she wanted to celebrate Valentine’s Day as a couple the year before. They got dressed up, went to a crowded restaurant, and tried to do the traditional thing. Halfway through the appetizer course they realized a stereotypical Valentine’s didn’t suit them. Ezra feigned sickness and got their entrees to go so they could spend the rest of the evening curled up by the fire, reading poetry and eating from takeout containers. This year they still planned to stay in and read, but Emily was going to make her infamous lasagna instead in honor of her mom and as well as their first night together.