Our First Kiss

by Judy Lynn Hubbard

  He groaned and made himself get up and prepare for what he instinctively knew would be a long day as he fought the urge to see Marcy. He hesitated glancing toward his phone. His hand levitated to it, but then he angrily snatched it away and instead stalked into the bathroom and switched on the shower. He would not call her, and he certainly wasn’t going to see her.

  Yeah, good luck with that, he silently ridiculed himself as he stepped under the cold spray of water.

  * * *

  Marcy hummed a bright tune as she laid out her forest-green suit on the bed. Things were progressing very nicely with Nathan—better than she had anticipated. He was coming around; he hadn’t wanted to leave her last night—in fact, he had found it extremely difficult to leave her. She had sensed the inner turmoil and wondered why he was convinced it would be better for her if they didn’t pursue a romantic relationship. He liked her, he wanted her, but he kept pulling back. Why? She didn’t know, but she was definitely going to keep chipping away at his bothersome resolve until it crumbled completely. They were meant to be together; she knew that and so did Nathan, no matter how hard he tried to fight against that inevitability.

  She picked up the suit and placed it back in her walk-in closet and took out a red one instead along with a long-sleeved white silk blouse. Nodding in satisfaction, she chose a pair of red pumps and laid them on the bed beside her clothes.

  She secured her hair on top of her head with a clip and walked into the bathroom and got into the shower. She wondered how Nathan had slept last night. Had he dreamed of her as she had ordered? If his dreams had been anything like hers, he had awakened with unfulfilled longing and wishing she was lying beside him in his lonely bed.

  Picking up the soap, she began lathering herself while contemplating how quickly she could get through her workday so she could see Nathan again.

  Chapter 6

  Nathan turned as the elevator doors opened revealing the person precipitating his visit to the Johnson Stockbrokerage Firm—Marcy Johnson. She was massaging her temple with one hand while the other carried her coat. Her eyes were closed, and she looked as though she was in pain.

  “Marcy, what’s wrong?”

  “Nathan.” She slowly opened exhausted eyes and smiled tiredly. “What a nice surprise.”

  “Good to see you, Nathan.”

  “You, too, sir.” Nathan shook Michael’s hand before returning his attention to Marcy. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Dad and I have just come from the niecy.”

  Nathan’s brows furrowed, “Where?”

  “The New York Stock Exchange,” Michael translated without glancing up from rifling through his messages.

  “It was a nightmare. Paper flying, deafening noise and normally sane people screaming and acting like uncivilized animals!” She groaned at the memory.

  “Why do you go there if it gets you upset like this?”

  “Upset? I love it.” She chuckled before wincing as her head throbbed. She needed to get to her office and her aspirin bottle quickly.

  “Oh, sweetie, your mother’s coming by tonight with a suit you ordered or something like that,” Michael absently shot over his shoulder before entering his office.

  “Do I have any messages, Peggy?” Marcy’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Yes, ma’am. Here you go.” She handed her several pink slips, which Marcy ignored, closing her eyes and massaging her throbbing temple praying for relief.

  “Headache.” Nathan touched her shoulder sympathetically.

  “Monster.” She groaned, partially opening pained eyes to stare into his concerned ones. “Will you carry me into my office?” she joked, motioning to the open door on the left, and nearly leaped with delight as he obligingly scooped her up in his arms.

  Peggy sighed enviously as they passed by her.

  “You’ll have to let go so I can put you down,” Nathan instructed seconds later when he stopped behind her glass desk.

  “What if I don’t want to be put down?” She twined her arms tighter about his neck, bringing her face closer to his.

  “Was this an elaborate scheme to get me alone in your office?” He grinned at her.

  She smiled impishly. “No, but now that you’ve planted the seed...”

  “Release me, Marcy Johnson,” he softly ordered, setting her down in her chair.

  She grudgingly did as he instructed but was delighted when he remained bent over her, lips mere inches from hers. Darkening eyes held hers as he began purposefully unbuttoning her red jacket.

  “Why Mr. Carter, what do you have in mind?”

  He jealously watched as she ran her tongue over the top of her red painted lips. Her mischievous chuckle informed him she was fully aware of the sexiness of her actions.

  “Not too tired to tease me, I see.” He lifted her up and pulled the jacket from her, revealing a long-sleeved white silk shirt underneath.

  “Never.” She frowned and pointed to her desk. “Will you hand me the bottle of aspirin in the top drawer behind you?”

  “You don’t need aspirin. I have the perfect headache cure.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ll see.” He smiled, and swiveling her chair around, he began massaging her neck and shoulders.

  “Mmm.” She groaned, closing her eyes. “Oh, that feels wonderful!”

  “Your headache will be gone before you know it,” he promised, fingers continuing to work their magic.

  “Not that I’m complaining, but what brings you here today?”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d come see where you work,” he lied, running his fingers up and down the back of her neck. The simple, frightening truth was he had been unable to stay away from her.

  “Uh-huh.” Her voice informed him she wasn’t buying his explanation. She sighed when his hand caressed her hair before placing it over one shoulder.

  “No disparaging remarks or I’ll stop,” he threatened, fingers retreating from her neck.

  “No, please don’t.” Her soft plea turned to a moan as his fingers resumed their magic. “How do you like my office?” Her arm made a limp circle.

  “Very nice.”

  He surveyed the elegant, purely female office as his fingers continued to knead into her flesh. That perfume of hers wafted up to his nostrils, and before he could help himself, his mouth had replaced his hands at the base of her neck.

  “Mmm, that feels even better,” she approved, raising a hand behind her to cup his slightly stubbly jaw, running a nail down its length.

  “How’s your headache?”

  “What headache?” He chuckled against her neck, sending goose bumps up her arms.

  After imbibing her scent, he lifted his head from her flesh and swiveled the chair around until she was facing him and their lips were centimeters apart. She opened tired yet aroused eyes to stare into the darkening depths of his. Before she could speak and before he could think, his mouth captured hers. She closed her eyes again and placed her arms around his neck as he kissed her silly.

  His warm, firm mouth took its time feasting on hers. His teeth nibbled at her lips before his tongue took over. Marcy would have fainted had she not been sitting down. When his seeking tongue slid past her teeth to investigate every hidden corner of her mouth before sparring with hers, she moaned invitingly, and the hands behind his head held him closer. His hands moved to her upper thighs, sliding under the short skirt to rub her silk-clad skin maddeningly before slowly moving back down and eventually away from her tingling flesh.

  “Don’t stop.” She sighed as his mouth released hers.

  “Stop trying to seduce me.” He straightened and removed her arms from around his neck.

  “You kissed me,” she softly reminded and tiredly leaned back against her chair
still holding one of his hands.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” he confessed, staring deeply into her eyes.

  “That’s music to my ears.” She smiled and then raised a hand to her mouth to hide a yawn. “Excuse me.”

  “How many more hours are you putting in today?” He said anything to take his mind off her delicious mouth.

  “Why?” She ran her free hand up his corrugated stomach to rest on his chest. “Do you have plans for me?”

  “Marcy...” He paused, lowering his lips back to hers, hovering there, just out of reach.

  “Yes?” She sighed, fingers crumpling his shirt front.

  “Get some rest tonight,” he softly ordered, disentangling his hand from hers, prying her fingers from his shirt and walking away while he still could.

  “Don’t you want to see me tonight?” she asked through another yawn.

  “I don’t think you could stay awake to enjoy it,” he predicted.

  “Try me,” she softly countered.

  He groaned inwardly when she crossed those shapely legs of hers and seductively stretched, arching her back in precise angles that had her breasts straining against the front of her thin blouse. It was all he could do not to retrace his steps and pull her soft, yielding body into his arms.

  “Some other time,” he promised, placing his hand on the doorknob.

  “Thanks for the lift,” she said, smiling as he opened the door. “And especially for the massage.”

  “Any time,” he promised and then left while he still could.

  She stared at the door, and a smile lit up her countenance. He had wanted to see her; he had finally made the first move. That was very promising—very promising indeed.

  * * *

  That evening, Marcy was securing her hair in a ponytail on the top of her head when the doorbell rang. She walked over barefoot, looked out of the peephole as her mouth burst into a bright smile and quickly opened the door.

  Nathan’s eyes drifted slowly over her. She was dressed casually in faded jeans and a white midriff sweater—a complete contradiction to the professional attire she had worn earlier. It didn’t matter what she wore; she always looked stunning and sexy. Right now, he added cute to the list of adjectives.

  “Nathan, what a nice surprise.” She stepped aside to let him in.

  “I guessed you wouldn’t feel like cooking.” He motioned to the white boxes in his hands.

  Her eyes sparkled. “You brought me Chinese?”

  “Yeah, do you like it?” He fought an urge to throw the boxes to the floor and fill his arms with her instead.

  “I love Chinese, especially Peking duck.” She took a box from him and sniffed appreciatively.

  “You’re in luck, then.” He waved another box in front of her.

  “Gimme.” She grabbed it and plopped down cross-legged onto the carpet, leaning her back against the sofa.

  “Do you want to eat there?” He smiled down at her.

  “Why not?” she patted a spot beside her, and with a chuckle, he took off his leather jacket, placed it over a chair and sat down beside her as she opened up boxes and placed them on the table in front of them.

  “I got a little bit of everything, so I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starved.” To prove her point, she plopped some Peking duck into her mouth and chewed appreciatively before swallowing. “This is so sweet of you. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, but I told you before that I am not sweet.” He balked at her use of the term to describe him.

  “Yes, you are.” She placed chopsticks holding duck into his mouth.

  “Hey, I can feed myself,” he protested around a laugh after swallowing.

  “But it’s more fun this way.” She offered him another piece of duck, which he accepted.

  She continued feeding him from her carton, and he fed her pepper steak. It didn’t occur to either of them to simply pour a little of each onto separate plates; if it did, they quickly dismissed it. There was something intensely appealing and erotic about feeding each other.

  “So, are you fully recovered from the NYSE?”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Thanks to a handsome gentleman with extremely talented fingers.”

  “Is that right?” He laughed.

  Oh, that was a sound she could definitely get used to. He was always handsome, but when he smiled, he was absolutely gorgeous. Everything about him made her knees go weak and her heart flutter uncontrollably.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She offered a piece of duck, which he took, and unable to help herself, she placed a light kiss on his lips. He continued to smile at her, but his eyes darkened at her actions. “Thanks.”

  “For what?” His eyes focused on her tempting, soft lips, which he suddenly wanted much more than food.

  “My massage earlier today and for bringing me dinner tonight,” she softly explained.

  His eyes met hers again, and her smile made it clear she knew what he had been thinking. It was unnerving and exciting the way she could read him.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Where are the fortune cookies?” she unexpectedly asked, rifling through a brown paper bag until she found them.

  “We haven’t finished eating yet,” he complained, marveling at how quickly she could change directions, always keeping him off balance.

  “After we read our fortunes,” she argued. “Here, open yours.” She handed him one of the brown cookies and waited expectantly for him to read it.

  “Confucius say...” His light, teasing voice trailed off as he silently read his fortune. Before he could crumple it up, she took the small white paper from his hands.

  “‘It is a wise man who realizes when that which he has searched long and diligently for is right before his eyes.’” She read his fortune and lifted smiling eyes to his uneasy ones.

  “These things are silly.” He discounted the validity of the statement she had just read.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she contradicted and cracked hers open. “You are going to make love with a tall, secretive, handsome man tonight—and by the way—” she paused and smiled brightly “—his name is Nathan.”

  “It doesn’t say that!” He grabbed at the paper in her hand, which she balled up and tossed onto the table.

  “It might as well, because that’s what I’m going to do,” she whispered, leaning closer to him.

  “You really shouldn’t...” He stopped as her fingers curled into his shoulders, and she brushed her mouth against his.

  “You really should stop fighting the inevitable,” she wisely countered.

  Their lips touched again tentatively as if they were both afraid of what they didn’t know. Then one of them or both of them groaned, and their mouths melted together, tongues meeting and dancing as their long-denied passion erupted. She felt herself being lowered to the floor, and then Nathan’s hard body half covered hers. A kiss that had begun so timidly was now bold and aggressive. Mouths pillaged and plundered, and neither of them could stop the destruction their passion unleashed. After a few long minutes, Nathan somehow found the will to pull back, closed his eyes momentarily and silently prayed for strength.

  “If you leave me this time, I will kill you,” Marcy softly yet seriously whispered as she opened drugged eyes to stare into his conflicted ones.

  He knew he should get out of her apartment quickly, but God help him, he didn’t know if he possessed the strength to do so. Where was his training? Why was he so utterly helpless when it came to the incomparable woman in his arms? He didn’t want to hurt her but feared he was on an unavoidable collision course to do just that.

  “Marcy, you don’t want to get involved with me.” He tried to resist both her and the consuming desire ricocheting through him.

  “Yes, I do. I want you
very much,” she whispered before kissing him again. “And you want me,” she softly, yet firmly asserted. “Stop fighting it.”

  Not even a saint could withstand the temptation Marcy Johnson presented—and he was by no means a saint. He was tired of fighting her and himself. This was wrong; he was going to end up hurting her and he knew it, but he didn’t have the strength to walk away from her again. He’d regret giving into their mutual desire in the morning, but he was going to enjoy himself tonight.

  “I’m not going to leave you this time,” he suddenly promised against her lips before his mouth covered hers again.

  Impatient fingers pulled the band from her hair before entangling in her thick tresses as his mouth continued to pillage. Then his hands slid down her body until they found their way underneath her sweater where to his delight he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. His thumbs rubbed softly and then with increasing urgency across her nipples until they were hard little nubs, and then he cupped her breasts, which fit his hands perfectly. She groaned against his mouth, and her body arched up against his unbending hardness.

  His mouth was torn between continuing its dance with hers and tasting the rest of her delectable flesh. Her mouth won for long lingering seconds before he pried his lips away from hers to feast on her softly scented neck—his tongue teasing the pulse beating rapidly there. He inhaled deeply her wonderful scent that fueled the flames of passion coiling within and opened his mouth wide over the base of her neck, teeth gently nibbling and scraping against her soft flesh before his mouth latched on and sucked furiously.

  Marcy bit her lower lip to hold back a pleasurable scream. Her hands pulled his sweater up over the waistband of his jeans and explored his muscled back as his hands inched her sweater up while his mouth moved down and greedily engulfed a breast, finally. Oh, what he was doing to her felt wonderful and so right; she moaned loudly then— music to his ears—and his hot mouth opened wider over her softly scented delectable swell. When his teeth took the hard nubbin between them, her back arched off the floor, and her hands dug into his back holding him closer. His hands slid down her flat, quivering stomach, resting just under the waistband of her jeans, fingers deliberately releasing the snap before burrowing beneath the material to caress her lower stomach.