First Kiss: Brad and Cam from Paramour

There's nothing like the anticipation of that first kiss. It doesn't matter if we've been thinking about it for hours, days, weeks, months, or years - there's always that moment of time when we realize it's actually going to happen and the world stops for a heartbeat.

In Paramour, handsome ad man, Brad Mitchum, has his reasons for delaying is first kiss with Camellia Stafford. Here's what happens when desire finally overrules reason. I hope you enjoy it!

Excerpt:

Brad shook off the memory and reached for his beer, surreptitiously checking the time again. He’d stayed late at the office, hoping the time would pass faster if he kept busy. It didn’t. He still had eight minutes, and every one of them threatened to stretch interminably. Now, he was busy sitting at his breakfast bar staring at the clock on his microwave. 

He laughed at his own pathos, picked up his bottle of beer, and drained it. Tipping the bottle cap on its edge, he flicked it with his middle finger and the spinning top careened toward the lip of the counter. It took the plunge, clattering to the tiled floor with a strangely satisfying clatter.

Brad checked the clock once more, and decided it was close enough. He was out the door in seconds, his bare feet pounding the cool concrete walkway. Impatient, he cut across the grass, dodged the fence post marking the Kelly’s property, and trotted along the sidewalk.

He drew to a halt beside her car and pressed one hand to the hood. The chilled metal told him she hadn’t gone anywhere in the past hour or two. He craned his neck and took a few steps along the drive. The kitchen lights still burned brightly. Brad spotted the glow of another light peeping through the crack in the picture window’s draperies.

“Stalker,” he muttered under his breath. “Peeping Brad.”

He jogged up the porch steps, rapped his knuckles against the door, and stood back, burying his hands in the pockets of his paint-stained jeans. A full minute passed. He was about to give up and go home when he heard her shuffling toward the door.

She opened it a crack, one bleary blue eye appearing in the space the old-fashioned chain lock allowed. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hey,” he exhaled.

Cam promptly closed the door. For a split second, he almost panicked. Then he heard the rustle of the chain.

She opened the door wider, a sheepish smile curving her lips as she smoothed the sharp creases that cut across the rumpled black dress she’d worn that morning. “Hi.”

His gaze swept from her bare toes to the bundle of hair held in place with two sharpened pencils. “Are you okay?”

Her smile was slow to blossom, but soon suffused her face, lighting her eyes with blue flames. Brad took an involuntary step back, stunned by the transformation. Then he moved forward, drawn like a moth.

“I’m great.”

“Great?” He couldn’t keep his puzzlement from his voice. He had expected any number of greetings, but not this one.

“Fabulous,” she confirmed. She hugged herself, shivering in the cool night air. “Are you okay?”

He raised his wrist to double-check his watch, needing to be sure he wasn’t going back on his word. The minute hand moved another tick past the twelve and nodded emphatically. “It’s tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Now. It’s past midnight. Tomorrow. Or today,” he rambled, closing the distance between them.

Cam gaped at him, tipping her head back as his hand settled on her waist. “Huh?”

“A brand new day,” he murmured, lowering his lips to hers.

It took a moment for her to catch on, but Cam rose on her toes to prolong the kiss. His fingers flexed, digging into the sweet curve of her hip, drawing her closer to him.

She came willingly, pressing her body to his. Her hands locked at the nape of his neck, her fingers slid into his hair, and a tingle tripped down his spine when her nails raked his scalp.

“Earl?” she whispered when they parted.

Her breath tickled his lips. “No,” he breathed, capturing her mouth again.

He might have moaned, or maybe it was her. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the soft cushion of her mouth against his. A faint whiff of chocolate teased his nostrils. Sugar lingered on her lips. Sugar and...something else. His mind raced, running through his sensory catalog until he struck gold. Milk. She’d been drinking milk.

She pulled back, and he couldn’t resist brushing his thumb over her full bottom lip. “You taste like milk and cookies.”

“They were some snickerdoodles left over. I had them for dinner,” she confessed. Her impish grin made the dimple in her cheek to flash.

He dipped his head and inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of fruity shampoo and lavender scented lotion. He kissed her again, drawing her deeper, capturing her bottom lip between his and sucking gently. A granule of sugar melted in his mouth, making his head spin.

They stumbled into the foyer in a tangle of arms and legs. Cam laughed when they broke apart, and he bent his head again, capturing the joyful sound with a sweet kiss.

“I couldn’t wait,” he confessed.

Cam’s fingers curled in his shirt and took a step back, urging him closer still until she bumped into the wall. “I’m glad.”

He took a wild swing at the door and somehow connected. When he didn’t hear the latch catch, he kicked out, nearly toppling them over. He ignored the jolt of pain shooting from his toes to his ankle, letting the sound of Cam’s laughter vibrate through him.

His fingers threaded into her hair. The pencils fell to the floor. Silky waves of amber cascaded over his wrists, gleaming in the dim light from the hall. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Your vision is wonky. You must be in your Dali phase.”

“I hated leaving you here.”

She smiled and pressed her hand to his cheek. “You’re sweet.”

Instinctively, he leaned into her caress. “No, I’m not.”

“No, not at all,” she crooned.