Good Morning Writers! Please be sure to share your No Kiss scene link in any comments so I can enjoy your No Kiss scenes too! Thanks to Frankie for getting our fingers back into action after the holidays.
Gillian glanced at the French doors when she heard the car door slam. At last! Time had nearly stood still all day while she waited. He’d be windblown and hot from the ride up from the desert in that little sports car. She knew exactly how his body would feel when he hugged her. Sand would have roughened his skin, leaving a faint dust that would transfer to her own fingers tips as she stroked his arm. Summer down in Phoenix would have tanned him to gold, not sun-yellow, but soft and inviting, like old, old jewelry. Despite his brown eyes, he never darkened to a true tan, but like the finest suede, kept the gleam of oiled leather. She mussed her curly hair with both hands, making sure it was a bit wild. He liked that way.
She wanted to hug him, to stand shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, her chin to the curve of his neck. In the last few nights, anticipating his arrival, her restlessness had conjured up dreams of racing out to meet him, regardless of what the neighbors might see. The thrill of tasting his mouth, of nuzzling her nose and cheek against his kept her awake and anxious. It had been nearly a year since his last visit, and email wasn’t enough to sustain her need. She turned her chair slowly as the doors opened, and a large suitcase was heaved up the last step into the sunny day room. The case rolled across the smooth terrazzo floor, and she caught it before it bumped into her.
“Gillian,” he said as he closed the doors. “Some men know when to throw in a hat. I toss in a suitcase. Shows how special I am and forces you to accept me, even if it’s been so long, you don’t remember who I am.” He shook his head and stretched every limb, ignoring the customary means of politely entering a house. It was his home too, after all.
“I had forgotten how hot that drive up the west road would be this time of year.” Joints popped and she laughed.
“You can’t be getting old,” she said.
“Ha! Just watch me. Six hours in the tuna can on wheels and I’m as stiff as the Tin Man. Listen.” He jiggled a knee and ankle and they popped on cue. “Dying as we speak. Feed me quick and give me the coldest glass of tea in the place.”
He seemed to leap across the room and knelt before her. “You are my darlin’ darling, and I’ve missed you every single moment. How have you been? Everything going all right?”
As he stroked her hair and traced the edge of her chin with his warm fingers, a thrill of desire made her heart begin to race. “I promised I wouldn’t be gone so long and I let you down. I’m sorry,” he said.
“You’ve been away for more days than I can count,” she said and allowed her fingers to trace swirls through the blond hair of his arms. She leaned into his touch, swayed against his palms, waiting for him to wrap her in his arms and lift her out of the chair as he had done last year.
“I’m so glad you’re home again,” she said. “I’ll bet you’re exhausted.” The effort to remain cool made her mouth tremble, but he was forbidden fruit, and she could not cross the line without his invitation. He leaned his head against hers and moaned as if he were in pain.
“Mostly I’m starving. What’s on the stove?” He rolled the suitcase aside and pushed her chair with him as he headed for the kitchen. “A man travels on his stomach.”
“I thought you traveled on donuts and coffee. Isn’t that what cops do?”
“This cop has learned his lesson. I’ve been good this year, yogurt, salads and fish. And now I want something that’s run around on four hooves before taking a bath in barbeque sauce!” He pulled open the oven door and drew in a long breath of satisfaction.
“Hot diggity dog! I knew there was a reason Jack and I voted to add you to the family when Dad remarried,” he said. “Every guy needs a baby sister who can cook.”
Exclusives, the Dorian Gray topic
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