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A Kiss is Just a Kiss
A kiss is just a kiss.
At least that's what I had always believed. Just a simple meeting of lips. Nothing more. Nothing less.
A kiss is just a kiss. But, not with her. Olivia. That woman. That infuriating, stubborn, passionate woman.
Oh no. With Olivia, a kiss couldn't be just a kiss. It just had to be more than that. She had to kiss me, because I couldn't figure things out. I had later told her I wasn't that naive, and the truth was I wasn't. I hadn't expected that kiss sure.
But, I had wanted it. I had fantasied about it. I dreamed about that kiss before she kissed me after Emma's presentation. I dreamed about kissing her at midnight as we rang in the new year. I dreamed about kissing her at Christmas under the ever watchful eye of the mistletoe. I had even dreamed about kissing her when she had collapsed outside of Company from stress. I had wanted to kiss her the most then. Combined with the first real inkling of unparalleled desire and the very real fear of her dying, I had wanted to wrap her up into my arms, protect her, and just kiss her.
And, many months later, as we were sitting in a park, having a picnic on a misty afternoon, I did just that. I kissed her.
We are giddy, giggling, and hopelessly in love. And she is so beautiful. Oh my dear Olivia. How could I have ever had resisted you? How could you ever have resisted me? How could either of us resisted, and ran from, and hid from this?
This real, true, powerful love. A love now laced with thick desire, so much so that I am surprised that we aren't starting a thunder storm today. Because with the amount of energy crackling around us, between us, within us, we can. We are a force of nature.
And, so now I look at her, my breath catches in awe of her. I gently ease my trembling fingers out to touch her, placing a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. My fumbling fingers then find her cheek, so soft and smooth, lingering there to trace small patterns of my love.
"Olivia," I urge. Her face lifts up towards mine. Her emerald eyes meet my mahogany ones. Connected. Caressed. Conceded. Sighing, I cup her face in my hand, rubbing my thumb across those soft, plump lips of hers. As I lean in, I close my eyes and quickly wet my lips in anticipation, bracing myself for the impact. Our lips crash and collide.
I have never felt anything like this in my entire life. Our kisses build from slow and soft into hot and hungry. When her tongue darts out and enters my willing mouth, my whole world is changed. Nothing could have prepared me for that. Nothing. A moment in time flashes by for the world. But, for us, in that instant, a lifetime is put into that kiss. Warm. Wet. Enduring. Enveloping. We are there, together.
I pull back from her, panting with cheeks flushed in crimson. She leans her forehead against mine. We both open our eyes, looking into each other's, words unspoken. That kiss has begun everything for us.
A kiss is just a kiss, except with Olivia.
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