Icing The Kicker, first kiss

We were watching Fifty First Dates a couple days ago. Drew Barrymore’s “Nothing beats a first kiss” line popped into my head when I started writing this. Icing The Kicker is the last book in the Paradise Park series. I’m sad to say goodbye to this series, but am very anxious to share with you what I have coming up.

As the beginning of my goodbye to Paradise Park, I’m sharing one last first kiss with you.

Excerpt from Icing The Kicker

“If you don’t want me to kiss you, you better stop me, Isabella, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself.”

His words registered, but she was powerless to stop him. She wanted him to kiss her, but there was no doubt in Isabella’s mind that she was dreaming. She had to have fallen asleep with Blair and was fantasizing about Greg because there was no way his lips were moving toward hers. His pink tongue coated his lips a heartbeat before their lips touched.

His lips were soft against hers, gentle but insistent. He tested her, working his way across her lips with his. One of his hands rested on her hip, the other came up to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed over her cheek and as far as kisses went, Isabella knew it was one for the record books.

Not that she’d had that many first kisses, but she expected so much more dominance from a man like Greg. All the more proof she was dreaming the whole thing.

His tongue brushed her lips and she eagerly opened for him. She wanted to taste him, get a hint of him inside her. The first brush of his tongue on hers was like heaven as sensation exploded through her.

She felt his kiss all the way down to her toes. His arm tightened around her back, pulling her body flush with his. He stirred against her belly and Isabella declared it her best dream ever.

Uninhibited in her dream state, she deepened the kiss and plunged her tongue deeper into his mouth. He responded with both his tongue and his cock, circling both against her and beginning a slow spiral that made her panties damp and her body heat. If the reality was half as good as the dream, Isabella might not be able to resist the man. Thankfully in her dreams she didn’t have to.

Isabella ran her hands over his chest beneath the shirt he wore. His skin was warm against her palms, the hair tickling her skin. His muscles jumped as she explored him, first his whole chest, then lower to his abs. The whole time he kissed her. Their mouths fused together. When they ran out of breath, he eased their kiss, but kept their lips touching.

“You’re driving me crazy, Isabella.”

“Me, too. Good thing this is a dream and we can finish what we’ve started.”

“If we finish what we’ve started it will be a dream.”

Something about the way he said it shook Isabella. “This is a dream, isn’t it?”

Greg pulled back, his hand halfway up her shirt, splayed across her belly. “Are you drunk?”

Isabella jumped back, realizing she had in fact accosted her son’s coach next to the vending machine at their hotel. She was mortified. There was no way she’d ever be able to look at him again. Matthew would have to transfer schools.

Oh, she was such an idiot.

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