Lucy’s lips parted softly at his words. “Did you say beautiful?”
Oliver nodded. Before he could respond aloud, Lucy launched herself into his arms. Her pink lips collided with his own just as her body pressed into him. He was stunned stiff for only a moment before he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her tighter against him.
Kissing Lucy wasn’t at all what he expected. Nothing about her was what he expected. She didn’t back down from what she’d started. She was bold, opening up to him and seeking his tongue out with her own. Oliver couldn’t help but respond to her. She was more enthusiastic and demanding than any woman he may have ever kissed before.
This wasn’t the smart thing. Or the proper thing. But he couldn’t make himself pull away from her. She tasted like sweet, baby-shower punch, and she smelled like lavender. He wanted to draw her scent into his lungs and hold it there.
But then it was over.
As she pulled away, Oliver felt a surge of unwanted desire wash over him. It was the last thing he needed right now—with Lucy of all women—but he couldn’t deny what he felt. It took everything he had not to reach for her and pull her back into his arms again. He was glad he didn’t, though, as his need for her was stunted by a sudden blow to the face as Lucy punched him in the nose.
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