Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(8)

Josh waved goodbye while Monica held her pinky and thumb to her face, indicating that she wanted details about Bo Cavanaugh. As we exited Finnegan’s, Bo once again held the door for me. When I walked by him, I instinctually hooked my arm around his waist and liked the fit. He paused for a second and looked at me with an unreadable expression. He turned and continued walking beside me, wrapping his arm comfortably around my shoulders.

“I didn’t think this was a violent town. Where did this brawl happen exactly?” Bo said, scanning the parking lot.

“It’s not. It just happened a couple blocks from where I live and it’s really not a big deal. I think Monica’s jealous she missed out on some action.” I’d tried to lighten the mood but he didn’t bite.

The moment was sliding through my fingers and I decided to take action. When we got to my car, I leaned my shoulder against it, and he copied my stance. Our hips were almost touching as I ran my thumb across the collar of his leather jacket.

“I had a great time tonight,” I said, “listening to you play, singing with you, talking with you…” I trailed off as I breathed in closer to him; now our hips were touching. His height forced me to tilt my chin up to meet his eyes. Our lips were closer now, and I felt my heart beating in mine.

“The pleasure was all mine, November.” Wow, November slid off of his tongue like nectar. He studied my eyes carefully as his hand cradled the back of my neck.

I tugged with little subtlety, telling him it was OK. I wanted his beautifully talented lips to touch mine, but he seemed to hesitate. Bo glided his hand away from my neck, down my arm, and paused at the hand I had on his collar. He interlaced his fingers with mine, and a ghost of a grin laced his lips before he slid my arm down his body, resting it on the top of his hips. He released my hand and held my face, staring at me in what can only be described as baffled wonder.

“You’re incredibly beautiful, November Blue. And so talented. . .” his voice trailed off as he brushed an errant strand of hair away from my eyes.

No guy - or really anyone besides my parents - ever called me November Blue and it sounded so passionate coming from his mouth.

I swallowed so hard I was sure he could hear it. The moment swayed between us, asking who would go first. The current he sent through me was visible in his eyes. I couldn’t take any more. I stole his hands from my face and forced them to my hips as I hungrily pulled his mouth to mine. Every thought and feeling I had about him over the last several hours exploded through my mouth and tongue as I searched his. This was no ordinary first kiss - it was deeper than any first kiss had ever been in the history of kisses.

His music, his guitar, his singing, his eyes - it was all burning through me as I moaned between his parted lips and tightened my fingers through his hair. He released hot, lust-filled air into my mouth as his fingertips slipped inside my back pockets. My anxious hands raked down his sides; when my thumbs found his belt loops, they held on for dear life. The world was vacant outside of us in that moment. His heart drummed through his thin shirt, its cadence matching mine.

I forced myself to take a deep breath before pulling my mouth from his. I placed one final soft kiss on his lips.

“Wh-why’d you stop?” he stuttered, searching my face for answers.

Because you completely disarmed me.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” I coyly smiled. I knew he would be; I’d already asked Josh.

“Uh . . . yea, I’ll be playing a set tomorrow.” He seemed shaken, and I liked that.

His hands remained on my hips, my thumbs in his belt loops.

“K, I’ll see you here tomorrow,” I said as I removed my thumbs and grazed them across his tight stomach, “you better get back inside to get your stuff.”

He let out a chuckle as he gave my hips a tight squeeze and placed a kiss just under my ear lobe. Why, yes, dessert sounds great. . .

“See you tomorrow, Ember.” He turned and shuffled back to Finnegan’s with his hands in his pockets as I balanced myself against my car.

I listened to “Heaven When We’re Home” twice on the way home from Finnegan’s, and once in front of my apartment. Each time the intro filled my car, my body craved Bo Cavanaugh. I floated up the stairs and poured myself into bed, where I drifted off to the most relaxing sleep I’d had in nights. I woke with a smile on my face and the lingering memory of his kiss on my lips.





Chapter Four

I’d forgotten to text Monica when I got home. That was a mistake. My post-first-kiss-smile faded as I saw roughly fifteen “are you ok?!” texts from her on my phone. I called her immediately, lest she send the police knocking.

“Mon, I’m fine. More than fine, his kiss . . .”

“November! You may not kiss strange men in a parking lot and not let me know you got home safe!” Her tone was the only reminder I needed that I broke the best friend safety pact.

Oops.

“Not strange men, Monica, God. Not even strange, it was Bo . . .” his name fluttered in the air for a second before Monica continued her verbal chastising.

“Well, anyway, spill it!” Monica’s desire for details outweighed her anger.

“On the deck, we just talked. When we walked to my car…” I trailed off as the memory temporarily satisfied my still-hungry lips.

“What?” Monica squealed.