My local chapter of the RWA is hosting a First Kiss contest for unpublished authors. I love the concept behind this contest. There is something amazing and magical about that first kiss between the hero and heroine in a romance novel.
"Time for the countdown!" Gregor bellowed to his guests. His brother's announcement caught Oskar by surprise. Glasses of champagne were poured and served. People blew party horns and confetti rained down around them.
"It's almost midnight? I guess I lost track of time." He turned back to Kiana just as the voices started shouting.
"Ten...nine...eight...seven..."
He wasn't sure what prompted him to do it. He wasn't drunk enough to embrace a woman he barely knew. But as he gazed into Kiana's face, with the lights of the city reflected behind her in the huge glass window, something compelled him to lean forward and whisper, "Happy New Year."
Her eyes widened and she licked her full lips, staring at his mouth with curiosity.
He never heard the end of the countdown. One minute he was leaning toward her, and the next he was lost in a tropical Eden. Sweet and lush, surrounded by warm breezes and the feel of sand beneath his bare feet. The scent of perfumed flowers filled the air, and he groaned as Kiana's slender arms wound around his neck. She let out a breathy sigh just before her lips touched his. So softly, so gently, he wasn't sure if it was real. He brushed his mouth over hers and she opened for him, tasting of tea and honey and paradise. Greedy for more, his hands slid under her baggy blouse, stroking the smooth skin of her back. He pressed her closer until he felt the pounding beat of her heart against his chest. Her fingers fluttered like a butterfly against the stubble on his cheek, finally resting there and tracing his jaw.
He deepened the kiss, pushing her back against the cushions of the sofa, devouring her mouth. Her leg hooked over his knee pushing the drab gray skirt up her thigh. A long expanse of soft skin rubbed against his trousers. Without thinking, he moved a hand to her leg and dragged his palm along the bare skin. He could swear he heard the sound of the ocean, waves crashing and returning to sea. He moaned and Kiana gasped in delight. He was having difficulty breathing, so he pulled back, nipping her lip on the way. The heat of a scorching sun bathed his body, and before his eyes finally snapped open, he heard the faint sound of a ukulele playing. Then, silence.
His eyes opened and he found himself sitting in the darkened corner of the living room, alone on the sofa. In his hands he held a pair of tortoise shell glasses.
Kiana was gone.
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