Our First Kiss

by Judy Lynn Hubbard

  “We could go back to my place,” she achingly suggested as he slowly released her lips.

  “Will you let me be the man?” He groaned, nibbling at her mouth, forgetting his resolve to push her away.

  Despite the desire racing through her, she laughed at his tone, which quickly turned to a moan at his actions.

  “Honey, you’re definitely a man.” To prove her point, she pressed tighter against him.

  He whispered, “You’re killing me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she shakily apologized, running her lips along his strong jaw.

  “No, you’re not,” he accused with a smile.

  She batted her eyes innocently. “I am, truly.”

  His heart thudded against his chest, beating frantically in concert with hers. One hand ran down her back to her hip, anchoring her lower body against his.

  “I’ve never met a woman like you.” He marveled while his other hand threaded through her thick locks, pulling her head back.

  “And you never will again,” she promised, and he silently concurred.

  “God, I love your hair.”

  His hand fisted in the silky tresses as he imagined it sliding across his stomach while her lips and tongue caressed him. He grew harder as the welcomed image assailed his overheated senses.

  “I’ve thought about cutting it,” she admitted on a sigh, her hands resting on his broad shoulders.

  “Don’t. Don’t ever,” he ordered, finally pulling her lips back to his.

  “I won’t,” she promised into his mouth.

  For several long minutes, she was in heaven. For a few agonizing seconds, he surrendered. His mouth demanded nothing less than complete capitulation from hers, which she was happy to give for a few seconds before aggressively participating in their heated, carnal duel of lips and tongues.

  “You are so beautiful,” he nearly growled as he forced his mouth away from hers.

  “And you’re very handsome,” she reciprocated, partially opening her dazed eyes to gaze at him.

  “You’re a hard woman to resist,” he reluctantly admitted as he sampled those sweet lips of hers once again for a few long moments.

  “Stop trying,” she softly suggested. “Are you going to take me home?”

  “Yes,” he readily agreed, slowly releasing her.

  He was damning his soul to hell, but so be it. He held out his hand to her; she gladly took it, and they walked out.

  * * *

  Thank the Lord for the ride home in the car. It afforded him time to come to his senses, cleared his head and stopped him from making a monumental mistake. Marcy was special, and she deserved a hell of a lot better than he was able to give her. He had promised himself and her brother that he wouldn’t hurt her, but if he did as his body cried out for him to do and made wonderful love to her tonight, he would be on course to do just that.

  Marcy turned her head to stare at Nathan’s intense profile. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. Uh-oh, he was thinking, and instinctively, she knew she wouldn’t like the conclusion he had evidently come to.

  Finally, the car stopped outside of her apartment. He helped her out, and they walked through the cold night air into the building. The ride in the elevator was silent, confirming her earlier suspicion that he was rethinking his decision to stay with her tonight. They got off on her floor, and she unlocked the door and stepped inside waiting for him to do the same.

  “I’m not coming in, Marcy.” He proved her fears to be correct.

  “But, I thought...” Her voice trailed off.

  “I know.”

  “The drive gave you time to think, didn’t it?” She smiled slightly despite her obvious disappointment.

  “Yes, thankfully,” he admitted.

  “Why thankfully?” she murmured, debating whether or not to make him forget his newfound resolve.

  “We’re moving way too fast,” he remarked, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from touching her, and she smiled at his actions. She doesn’t miss anything.

  “Yes, we are moving fast,” she agreed.

  “That’s not what I expected you to say.” He somberly studied her gorgeous face.

  “Maybe this is.” She paused before continuing. “We’re moving fast but not too fast. I’m not trying to pass some time with you Nathan. I don’t want a brief affair,” she confessed.

  “I’d be disappointed if you were or did.”

  A brief affair was all he had to offer, and it wasn’t what he wanted with her. She desired stability, permanency and roots—none of those things had a place in his life right now, which is why he had no place in hers.

  “What are you thinking?” She leaned against the door and smiled at him thoughtfully. “What do you want, Nathan?”

  He remained silent as he pondered her question. It wasn’t that he couldn’t tell her what he wanted; it was that he didn’t dare. He wanted her—not just for a night but for dozens of nights, endless nights.

  “Good night, Marcy.” He valiantly fought not to kiss her and somehow succeeded. Quickly turning, he walked toward the elevator.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she called after him, and he turned to somberly face her.

  “I know,” he agreed before the elevator doors closed.

  “Damn,” she whispered as a smile played about her lips. She didn’t understand why he was bent on ignoring the attraction between them, but she was just as adamant that he wouldn’t succeed. “This makes two times, and it’s the last time I allow you to walk out on me, Mr. Carter,” she promised with a determined smile as she closed the door.

  * * *

  Two days later, Natasha walked down the aisle and married Marcy’s brother. Marcy had never seen either of them look happier and had never been happier for them. Natasha had been a beautiful bride in the dress Nicole designed. The tiny waist accentuated her figure; the full skirt was reminiscent of southern belles, and moved as though it was a part of her. Satin bows trailed down the back of the gown. Her shoulders were left bare. Her hair was pinned up, and a crystal tiara was the crowning glory, attached to a cathedral-length veil.

  Damien and all the groomsmen, which included Nathan, were dressed in black tuxedos. Marcy had glanced at him more than once during the ceremony, and she had felt him glance at her. Her eyes searched the room and found Nathan standing with Nicole and their father on the other side of the ballroom. Determinedly, Marcy walked across to spirit him away. They hadn’t really been alone all evening, though she had finagled it so that he was the one who escorted her down the aisle. She ached to be held in his arms; it was time to get Mr. Carter on the dance floor.

  “I don’t think Nathan has a chance.” Natasha’s eyes moved from Marcy to focus on her new husband, whose arms she was dancing in.

  “I think you’re right,” Damien agreed, also refocusing his eyes on his new bride.

  “How do you feel about that?” Natasha watched him closely.

  “I like Nathan.”

  “But?”

  “But I’m worried about Marcy,” he confessed.

  “Nathan would never hurt her,” she positively responded.

  “I know that,” he said more for her benefit than actual belief.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her hard and then to prove he wasn’t worried glanced at their mothers and joked, “He has powerful forces working against him.”

  “He does indeed. Momma has met a kindred spirit in your mother.” She smiled as her eyes drifted over the two women both dressed in varying shades of lavender.

  “Poor Nathan. I feel sorry for him,” Damien sympathized.

  “I wouldn’t. They make a stunning couple,” Natasha asserted.

  “Nat
asha, no matchmaking,” he ordered. “Our mothers are bad enough.”

  “I’m just saying—” Her words were muffled against his mouth as he kissed her thoroughly.

  “I don’t want to think or talk about anyone except you and me, wife.” He kissed her lips again lingeringly until she was clinging to his shoulders and could think of nothing except how much she wanted to be alone with him.

  “Neither do I, husband,” she agreed, winding her arms around his neck as he slowly twirled her around the dance floor.

  “I love you with all my heart,” he vowed, their bodies barely moving now.

  “I love you more,” she whispered.

  “Thank you for putting up with me, Tasha,” he replied, pulling her closer.

  “Any time.” She smiled and pulled his lips back down to hers.

  * * *

  Marcy and Nicole were dressed similarly in formal attire consisting of black velvet A-line dresses, off the shoulder, with a slit up the back allowing for ease of movement. In her hands, Marcy held the bridal bouquet she had caught. The garter Nathan had caught was secured around her thigh. She smiled as she recalled the way she had teased him as he had reluctantly placed it there amid cheers and whistles.

  “Hello, everyone.” Marcy beamed as she approached Nathan, his sister and father.

  “Marcy, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how lovely you look,” Lincoln replied, kissing her cheek.

  “Thank you, Lincoln,” she smiled at him. “Your daughter did a fabulous job on the gowns on such short notice.”

  “It was a labor of love,” Nicole replied. “Momma is motioning to you.” She touched her father’s arm, and he looked in the direction she pointed.

  “Ah, what is that woman up to now?” He rolled his eyes heavenward and walked away chuckling.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, Nathan?” Marcy touched his arm lightly. She felt his muscles tense up at the contact.

  “It’s a great party.” He cursed his eyes for lingering on her kissable full red lips.

  “I could use some champagne.” Feeling like a fifth wheel, Nicole prepared to leave them alone.

  “I’ll get it,” Nathan quickly offered.

  “No, stay and entertain Marcy. I’ll get it.” Nicole smiled at him, winked at Marcy and then quickly disappeared.

  “Aren’t they a beautiful couple?” Marcy grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor.

  “Yes.” Nathan eyed her suspiciously. “What are you and my sister up to?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” Marcy feigned innocence while moving into his arms.

  She was exasperating—but intriguing and oh, so desirable. If things were different, he would be pursuing her instead of the other way around, but things weren’t different.

  “You can pull me a little closer, Nathan. I won’t break,” she instructed as they began to dance.

  “If you recall, I do know how to dance with a woman.” Despite his better judgment, he pulled her closer, anyway—the way he had danced with her the other night.

  He had purposefully avoided her since their dinner together. Time apart had done nothing to squelch his desire for her. Instead, it had only intensified to near-crippling proportions, yet it had reminded him of the many reasons he shouldn’t and couldn’t become involved with her. But now that he was touching her again, none of them seemed very important.

  “Mmm, that’s better.” She sighed, fingers tightening on his shoulder. “Why are you being so standoffish today? The other night you willingly held me close and kissed me.”

  “Yes, I know,” he admitted, wishing he could forget about that.

  “You told me you thought I was beautiful. Didn’t you mean it?”

  “Yes, you’re very beautiful,” he grudgingly replied.

  “You don’t have to sound so resentful about it,” she chided, and despite himself, he laughed. “That’s much better,” she approved.

  “Marcy, I really can’t become involved with you.” His words were deadly serious, though he continued to smile at her.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not a good time for me.” He nearly groaned the words as she moved closer to him and slid her arm up until her fingers rested at the nape of his neck.

  “We can’t choose when we’ll meet someone who excites and captivates us,” she whispered, eyes darkening at his nearness.

  “I know. I wish we could.” He stopped himself from tasting those soft sweet lips somehow.

  “So you wouldn’t be attracted to me?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, and she smiled at him.

  “Nicole says you’ll be here for about a month?”

  “More or less.”

  “Well, I’m giving you fair warning that while you’re here, I plan on monopolizing your time.”

  “Don’t I have any say in the matter?”

  She appeared to consider his question and then smiled. “No, not really.”

  His somber expression disappeared, and he laughed. “You’re pretty aggressive.”

  “As you should know by now, I don’t believe in wasting time when I see something I want,” she easily responded.

  “And what do you want?”

  “Only your heart,” she simply replied.

  “Is that all?” He smiled again despite himself.

  “Yes, that’s all,” she acquiesced. “And I promise you it won’t be painful. In fact, if you relax, you might actually enjoy falling in love with me,” she boldly suggested.

  “Are you trying to tell me that you’re in love with me?” He stared at her aghast.

  “Very close to it,” she admitted.

  “We haven’t known each other long enough for you to be anywhere near in love with me,” he contradicted her. Though inwardly he was flattered and humbled by her words.

  “Don’t tell me how I feel,” she softly ordered. “Besides, what does time have to do with affairs of the heart? My father fell in love with my mother in hours. My brother fell in love with your sister in days, and your mother and father fell in love at first sight.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know how long it took my father and mother to fall in love?”

  “I asked them.”

  “You what?” That’s all he needed—her feeding his mother’s incessant need to play matchmaker.

  “I asked them,” she softly reiterated. “They’re lovely people. Your entire family is wonderful.”

  “Thank you. So is yours.”

  “You don’t know what to make of me, do you?” She smiled a dazzling smile that nearly brought him to his knees.

  “No, not at all,” he readily agreed.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” she promised, moving closer in his arms until he couldn’t tell where he ended and she began.

  She felt too good next to him; her body fit perfectly against his. The exotic perfume she insisted on wearing was killing him; this was laughable—a highly trained soldier was rendered helpless by perfume and the formidable woman who wore it.

  Not knowing what to say, he remained silent; however, his shocked expression spoke volumes. Marcy continued smiling at him as he twirled her around the dance floor. He had been on many dangerous assignments through the years, yet he feared none would compare to the danger Marcy Johnson posed to his longing heart.

  Chapter 4

  Nicole and Nathan sat finishing up their lunch at a downtown Manhattan restaurant. Having just seen her at Damien and Natasha’s wedding a few days ago, he had been a little surprised to receive her invitation but was always happy to spend time with his little sister. However, it soon became apparent that she had more on her mind than just catching up; she was on a fishing expedition, and he had a pretty good idea for whom.

  “I’m glad y
ou invited me to lunch today, sis.” Nathan smiled as she sampled her chocolate cream pie.

  “So am I.” Nicole licked whipped cream from her fork.

  Nathan grinned. “You seem to be enjoying your dessert much more than you did your main course.”

  “Raw fish—raw anything—is not my idea of food.” Nicole placed a hand to her stomach at the memory, and Nathan laughed.

  “You’re the one who said you wanted to try something new.” He shrugged. “I thought you’d like sushi.”

  “I should have known better than to let you choose the restaurant.” Nicole accusingly pointed her fork at him. “Remember how you loved using me as your guinea pig when we were little?”

  “Hey, you always pestered me to sample my cooking.”

  “That’s not exactly the way I remember it. I should have been suspicious when you covered it in chocolate to tempt me to taste it.” They shared a laugh. “Those were good times, weren’t they?”

  “The best.” Nathan squeezed her hand. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” Nicole returned his smile and then grew serious. “What have you been doing for four long years away from home, Nathan?”

  “Just working, trying to build a life for myself,” he noncommittally replied.

  “Have you?”

  He shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Don’t you want someone to share it with?”

  “I don’t have the time or the inclination for a lasting relationship.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’m perfectly happy with my life the way it is.”

  “Mmm,” Nicole whispered, eyeing him over the rim of her cup.

  He knew she didn’t believe him. Hell, he didn’t believe himself—especially since meeting Marcy.

  “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about me. Tell me about you,” he invited.

  “I’m going to Paris as a junior associate for Alexander James at the beginning of March. Momma doesn’t want me to go, but she’s been very supportive as has Dad.”