Conventionally Yours (True Colors, #1)

by Annabeth Albert

Conrad was going to kiss me, and I was going to let him. Wait. Let was the wrong word. I wanted this, had wanted it far, far longer than I was willing to admit, even to him. Even to myself for that matter. I wanted this, and I wasn’t going to let the moment slip away, not this time. Instead, I met him halfway, our lips colliding—a little artlessly at first, nothing lining up evenly, our noses bumping. But then he shifted, pulling me closer, and I forgot to worry about what lined up where. For the first time maybe ever, logistics were less important to me than feelings. The margins of our mouths and angles of our noses became fleeting concerns, replaced by sensation. The feel of his lips, soft and satiny. The slight rasp of his cheek. The tremble in his hand. The strength in his fingers. The hitch in my heartbeat at the slightest increase in the pressure of his mouth. The sigh in my soul, a knee-melting feeling of absolute, utter rightness. Right as I started to sink into that feeling, though, he pulled back, resting his forehead against mine for a second. Probably longer than the actual kiss, but my lips still tingled with awareness of where his had been.

Now that’s… a good kiss