Thanks to Lori for her quick beta. Has it really been THIS long since I updated? Sheesh.
First kiss ever I took
Like a page from a romance book
The sky opened and the earth shook
Down on copperline...
Copperline, James Taylor
The season was spring, he was sure, because he thought about rebirth and rain as she slid her lips across his and made it all seem so easy he almost shook. It was a few long moments of her mouth against his before he responded and slid a hand up her hip, rested there, continued on up her arm, to her shoulder and finally into her hair.
And he held on for dear life.
It was as though he could taste the smile that she smiled, sweet maybe, something new, a confection as he smiled back and yielded to her pressure, allowing her to press him gently back into the side of an anonymous car. Sara's length against him and he forgot he was on the clock, but remembered that he wasn't supposed to allow this to happen.
The top level of the garage at the Sahara, perhaps not the ideal locale to claim their 'first kiss', but he was something like lost when she took the lead and threw the last shred of caution to a hurricane-gale wind and erased the line completely. One of her hands was curved against the back of his neck, the other clenching and unclenching at her side, as though she was trying to claim something she couldn't grasp.
It made him entirely too sad, and his eyes slid closed, he couldn't bear to watch her anymore.
His free hand slid against the edge of her jeans, two fingers touching Sara's skin and tingling with the newness of the sensation, greedily lapping it up. He was almost jealous of his hands, their friction ridges that he was envious of because he wanted to feel everything that they felt but with every nerve in his body. The sensation of her, of the Vegas air brimming with electricity and excitement, the memory of an entrapped coworker fresh in his mind and too, too many sleepless nights caused those two fingers to press beneath the denim and curl into her, pulling her closer.
That snapped her from her lazy, quiet fall into him, and he damned himself for existing in that moment.
"Sorry," she breathed against him as she separated a fraction, eyes glittering up at him, his vision of her distorted because she was so close. Cheeks like fresh, pressed blush, lips like the blood in the movies, pupils as big as the moon that the cat jumped over; she wasn't sorry.
The only thing he could think to do really, was to sigh a little and close his eyes and press back the regret that his fifty-year old soul had come accustomed to supplying him with. "It's okay."
Sara allowed herself a demure smile and pulled back, "More than okay, I think." It was a line that should have been coy and sexy but came out shy and reserved and he sighed again, and bit his lip, listened to the sound of the lonesome coaster rolling over their heads. Well, then he kissed her, shifting their momentum and pressing her back into their department issue vehicle, breathing over her lips for a moment before pressing in and claiming.
He watched as her eyes slipped closed, slipping into a dream and pressed both of her hands just below his chin, holding him in harder, still smiling, trying not to grin and break the friction of body against body, mouth against mouth.
There was a jerk in her shoulders, in her hips and she sucked in a breath and he pulled back and looked.
Eyes red, still glittering, but red like her lips and he was scared. "Sara... Why are you crying", the utterance of her name asked without his voice accompanying.
Again, her lips lifted and she shrugged, "I don't know," and she cried harder, hiccoughed a little but grinned and kissed him a little more and he responded easily, this time holding her a bit more gently. The way her lips pulled at him was greedy, desperate; he met her halfway in desperation, giving and taking just as much.
Neither the time nor the place, that was how he would later categorize their first kiss, just before she silenced him by sliding onto his lap and removing his shirt. But in the moment, he didn't think much except to wonder why he was feeling so dizzy and choked up himself.
The rolling wind whisked up the sand and grit from the pavement and skittered across their skin; it scratched her and scratched him and his fingers soothed over her skin but she didn't bother, just clutched his shirt and peered up at him in all seriousness, with rivulets of mascara making their way down her cheeks. "I love you, okay?"
The blue cars screeched overhead, empty and scraped against the metal as he looked up, feeling her gaze boring into him, her thumbs hooking his neck. He shook his head and looked back down at her, swallowing the lump in his throat to croak, "No," but she smiled anyway and as her mouth wavered, her hands slid to his shoulders.
Sara's body slumped against the metal at her back and she watched him as he spoke, "Please, don't."
And it was the only thing to say, at least she thought it was, because the syllables came unbidden, "I have to." Sara said the words like they were the physical manifestation of a shrug.
As she leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his shirt he said "Oh," and that was all.
Took a fall from a windy height
I only knew how to hold on tight
And pray for love enough to last all night...