First Kiss Friday – The Trouble With Dying by Maggie Le Page

Today’s First Kiss Friday featured guest is Maggie Le Page, author of contemporary romance The Trouble With Dying.  Welcome Maggie!  Here’s the first kiss between Nate Sutherland and Faith Carson.

The setup:

Faith is stuck outside her body, her memories wiped, desperate to find a way back in so she can wake up from her coma and get on with living.

He’s naked. Well, almost naked. But his towel doesn’t really count; it’s more flannel than towel. Too small to do anything useful. My breath quickens.

It’s steaming up fast in here . . . in more ways than one.

His towel drops to the floor. My thoughts scramble.

Nate steps away from me under the shower and braces his arms against the wall, letting water cascade over his body. He’s beautiful.

And my libido clearly doesn’t give a toss about its silly old coma. I run my tongue over too-dry lips. Allow myself to imagine his skin touching mine.

As I watch, the heat relaxes his body. The tension in his shoulders eases. He slowly turns one-eighty under the water, and now he’s facing me. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m heat under pressure with no chance of release.

He tilts his head back, eyes closed against the spray, and runs his fingers through his hair. I’m jealous. It should be my fingers doing the massaging.

And—why not? I have energy to channel. If my heat levels are any indication, I could probably power the whole city tonight.

I shimmy in so close we threaten to merge. Will the water fall straight through me or will it bounce off me? If it bounces off me Nate will notice, for sure, and he’ll know I’m a pervy little ghost-on-heat taking advantage of him when he least expects it.

I’m okay with that. This might be my last ghost-on-heat opportunity ever.

I reach out a hand, under the water, and am almost disappointed when the water’s journey doesn’t change.

My hand is a hair’s breadth from his chest. The heat intensifies. Death by lust: it could be worse, I suppose. I have a sudden image of Geoff racing in to kill me, only to find me dead already, poached in my own juices as I watched Nate in the shower.

If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the fire. Gran’s favourite saying, especially after she’d done a round with the Inland Revenue Department. It must be genetic, because I’m loving this heat.

I cover his hand with mine, intertwining our fingers, imagining, energising, visualising our hands linked. My hand tingles.

“Christ,” he mutters. “Get out of my head, girl.”

A downward glance. He lets out a quiet groan. I follow his gaze and, oh God, is spontaneous combustion possible in my other-worldly state? Because seriously, I’m flaming up here and in desperate need of release.

I lean ever so slightly forward and our bodies are now touching, if only we could feel it. I close my eyes and try to imagine the feel of him against me. It’s not happening, dammit. What am I doing wrong? I can’t feel it, and I’m desperate to feel it—him—us.

I look into his eyes—come on, Nate, see me—and move my lips over his, closing my eyes once more as I imagine the soft fullness of his mouth against mine, the touch of tongue against tongue, the rough scratch of—

My breath hitches. He kissed me. He kissed me.

And now the heat is really on because I can feel his lips on mine. Not in some second-hand, indirectly through my physical body way, but in a real-time, here and now, this is absolutely happening way.

I kiss him back, putting everything I’ve got into it because he is everything I want, I know that now, and it feels so achingly right. We may never have this chance again so, please God, let this be as unforgettable for him as it is for me.

My hips move against his.

“Pix,” he whispers, then backs me against a wall, kissing me, touching me, setting me alight inch by glorious inch.

I glance down and my clothes have gone. We’re naked, wet, and sliding over each other. The steam is literally rising from our bodies. It’s beautiful. Real. Impossible.

My breath comes in shallow gasps. Primal urges take over, and they don’t give a shit whether I’m on the Earth plane, in Heaven, or in a whole new dimension. All they tell me is feel-him-touch-him-take-him-now.

BUY LINK:

THE TROUBLE WITH DYING is available on Amazon – http://amzn.com/B00QTAAGFY

AUTHOR LINKS:

Maggie’s website – http://www.maggielepage.com

Maggie’s Facebook page – http://www.facebook.com/maggielepage