Tuesday, September 15, 2015

K Is For Kiss

Jennifer talks about first kisses…

In romances, as in life, first kisses are filled with “will they, won’t they” moments. There’s the first inkling it might happen, followed by each person thinking and wondering about it. And then there’s the moment just before the kiss happens. The air gets heavy and crackles with attraction, they lean into each other and magic happens.

Unable to resist, Gideon pulled her down toward him and kissed her gently on the lips. As anticipated, her lips were soft, warm and delicious. “Thanks for coming with me tonight. Get home safe.” He dropped her hand and backed up, watching as she got into the car pulled away. You fool, he thought to himself. What did you do that for? You turned a perfectly fine evening into a disaster. She’s never going to want to be with you again. And you’re never going to be able to get that kiss out of your mind.

Except when it doesn’t.

“I should probably go and let you get some sleep. I’ll pick you up Saturday around 11?”
“Perfect. I hope I’ll be recovered by then.”
He laughed, kissed her cheek and let himself out the door.
She put her hand to her cheek. His lips barely touched the skin, yet her cheek burned as if he’d branded her. They’d been warm and dry against her face. What would they be like against her lips? She leaned against the door and listened for the ding of the elevator’s arrival. It was whisking away the man she grew more attached to each time she was with him. She gripped the doorknob and willed herself not to turn it, not to open the door, not to run after him.
The elevator dinged. He’d kissed her.
Her cheek? Did he kiss her cheek? Oh hell. What was he, fourteen?
Josh continued to berate himself in silence as he flagged a taxi outside her building. He gave his apartment address to the driver and stared out the window.
Why didn’t he kiss her lips, like a man? Like a man who was attracted to a delectable woman.
He didn’t have a good answer for that question, except their relationship was new and he was still working things out.
She’d asked for his assistance and he’d run to her. It’s what he did. He helped people, and helping Miriam gave him a satisfaction deep in his soul. By aiding her, he established a connection between his heart and hers, except he couldn’t tell her.
If he did, she’d in all likelihood run from him, especially after all the support he’d tried to give her sister. She’d think he was doing the same thing, maybe confusing the two of them, and she’d be far from the truth.

Sometimes, the first kiss takes a while to happen. One character or the other isn’t quite ready, the signals get crossed, or the timing isn’t right.

From Skin Deep:

She met his gaze and he leaned down. His breath warmed her and filled the space between them with a pulsating force. She longed for him to take her in his arms, to press his body against hers. The smell of his shampoo drifted toward her and she saw his veins pulse at his temples. He intoxicated her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in his embrace. Instead, he pulled away. Disappointment soared through her and her face burned.
“Goodnight.” His voice echoed in the darkness.
“Goodnight.” She turned and walked to her car. The gentle ocean breeze did little to clear Valerie’s mind. As she drove home, she remembered how he’d flinched every time she touched him and had pulled away from her instead of kissing her. Her cheeks heated, though whether from embarrassment, attraction or frustration, she didn’t know. She didn’t understand him.

In those instances, often, it’s the thought of the kiss that is arousing as the actual act itself.

As he walked down the hall, he heard music. The upbeat, folksy Klezmer beat made his pace quicken. His heart skipped when he heard Samara sing and he paused outside her door to listen. The air around him was stifling, his jacket pressed too tight against his neck and his face flushed as he listened to the beautiful music float out of her mouth. How could someone so clumsy create such enchanting music and hide within such a beautiful exterior? Her black curls bounced in time to the music and he stuck his hands in his pockets to prevent them from reaching out to touch them. They would be silky soft and would curl around each finger. He could imagine the smooth heat at the nape of her neck as he buried his hands in her hair and tilted her face toward him. Brown eyes would meet his, darken to burnt umber and disappear into topaz slits as she’d close her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. Full, pink lips would pucker and glisten as he’d lean in toward her. He closed his eyes and let the music and the fantasy wash over him. As he braced his hand against the doorframe, the cool molding beneath his hand snapped him back to reality and he searched his pockets for something to wipe the sweat from his face. His fingers fumbled with her soft handkerchief in his pocket, and his attention returned to the task at hand. Return her handkerchief. That’s all. Nothing more. He waited for a break in the music and cleared his throat.

So tell me about your first kiss!


  1. I like the fact that all these are very different but, of course, different circumstances create different kisses.

    1. Of course! And thank goodness for that, because I wouldn't want to write the same kiss scenario in every book.

  2. From my WIP:
    Taking his own advice to let go and just feel, he bent down and softly pressed his mouth to hers.
    Her lips quivered under his, and he fully expected her to pull back. Maybe even throw a punch.
    He braced himself, but to his surprise, she rose up on her toes, closed her eyes, and leaned into the kiss.
    A feeling unlike any he’d ever experienced flooded through him. Tenderness, whipped by a lust much stronger than he’d ever felt for Candy. He pressed down, trying to let the touch of his lips reassure Stormy without revealing his secrets or demanding her trust.
    Her lips responded with a give and take that he ached to explore, but didn’t dare. This wasn’t the time or the place, and he wasn’t sure he could ever unlock his heart again.
    Pulling back, he felt the soft rush of her sigh. Her lids fluttered open and revealed eyes that glistened with invitation and permission.
    Again, he wrestled with his emotions. He ached to make love to her, but unless she knew the truth of his intentions, he’d be nothing but a trickster and a cad. She’d end up hating him and berating herself. He refused to hurt her like that. She was too special.
    Better to stick to his plan—help her overcome her social awkwardness and step back.
    He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Let’s start over. I’m the man, your superior. You’re a woman, my…”

    1. That's a great excerpt, Ana. I'm hoping she sets him down a peg, though, over that "superior" comment...

  3. There's nothing like that first kiss. Whether it's the first one ever when you're a teenager or it's the first one with someone new or the first one as husband and wife.

    I love that as a romance writer I get to experience (vicariously of course!) all of my heroine's first kisses with the hero. *sigh*