“Madeline,” I murmur. “Yeah?” she whispers. “Maybe we should kiss,” I tell her, not fully knowing what I’m saying. But those lips… and the corner of her mouth… “To see if it brings us good luck.” “You want to kiss me because you want good luck?” “Yeah. But I also want to kiss you because I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.” My eyes roam down the front of her shirt. I know she’s a woman with curves, but I’ve been careful never to look at her for too long. I’m looking at her now, though, and I marvel at the way the silk hugs her chest. How it fuels my imagination as I think about what her
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