Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs
I break the rules and reach up and kiss him. A feathery peck on his plump lips, itâs a kiss of solidarity, a kiss that intends to tell him I understandâbut one isnât enough. It only manages to ratchet up my lust. So I give him another, this time on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his jaw.
Itâs not enough, these small, barely-there touches. I want more, but I wonât take it. Iâll be good; Iâll only give.
Abruptly, he fists my curls and stops me. I look at him fearfully, ready to apologizeânot for the kiss, but for being the kisser. His gaze reflects passion, stark, raving need, and I shiver, despite wearing layers and sweating with his heat.
âAre you trying to kiss me, Layla?â he rasps, flexing his fingers on my makeshift ponytail.
He couldnât tell? Blush rises to the surface and I know Iâm glowing like a neon sign. Swallowing, I nod. âYes.â
He inches closer to me, still not touchingâas impossible as that isâbut infinitely closer. âYou want to kiss me, Miss Robinson, you do it right.â
Oh God, does he have to call me that? Now, here? My spine arches on its own and my heavy tits graze the contours of his shuddering chest.
âH-How?â I ask innocently, belying the daring action of my body. His stern, professor-y voice is doing things to me, making me wild, uncontrolled.
I'm a big believer in love (obviously). I believe in happily ever after, the butterflies and the tingling. But I also believe in edgy, rough and gutsy kind of love. I believe in pushing the boundaries, darker (sometimes morally ambiguous) emotions and imperfections.
The kind of love I write about is flawed just like my characters. And I hope by the end of it, you'll come to root for them just as much as me. Because love, no matter where it comes from, is always pure and beautiful.