Here is my Snog taken from Slap Shot.
“In a minute,” he murmured. The gentle touch of his finger on my face turned into a palm over my jawline. “Stay with me for a little while longer.”
My head tipped to his touch and the hard patches of skin on his hand rubbed my cheek. It only added to the rawness of him, the deep maleness that could never be associated with anything vaguely feminine. “No, I really should go, now.”
“But you haven’t had dessert.” He swept his tongue over his bottom lip.
I mimicked his action, my heart pounding in my chest. “What’s dessert?” I asked.
“This.” He slanted his head and pressed his lips to mine, his soul patch tickling my chin. I didn’t resist, I knew I should, but suddenly every nerve in my body was wide awake with lust. I closed my eyes and put my hand over his large one, which still cupped my cheek. He was so damn good at making me forget I’d said no. Even though I’d told him it was time I went home I wanted him. I wanted him so badly.
What am I doing?
“No,” I snapped, pulling away and remembering my vows to myself. “You have to stop, Rick.”
He gaze staked mine. “I will if you say ‘stop’ like you mean it.”
“I…I…” The word wouldn’t come out, at least not with an iota of conviction.
He grinned, his gaze heavy and full of promise. “But I will stop…eventually,” he whispered. His mouth hovered, tempting me with the heat and softness of his lips and his sumptuous flavor.
I leaned into him. His chest brushed my peaked nipples and I caught my breath.
“It’s just a kiss, Dana,” he breathed. “Just a kiss.”
Oh god, but my body needs so much more.
“And it’s not like I haven’t kissed you before,” he went on in a low, murmuring voice. “I like kissing you. You’re the sweetest, most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”
His lips were a hairsbreadth from mine and each word, each whisper undid my resolve a little more. Weakened me for him.
He threaded his fingers through my damp hair until he cradled my skull. Then he was kissing me again, confidently, expertly. My breasts grew heavy and my nipples tightened further against him. I wanted this. I wanted this heat pumping through my veins, the delicious tug between my legs. It was wrong of me. He was bad for me. But it had been so long since I’d felt anything like this—well, apart from last time I’d been alone with him.
I slid my hand down his corded forearm, which held my head for the kiss. Smoothed over his wet skin, feeling the haze of hairs thinning as I reached his dense biceps. My palm cupped over the hard bulge of muscle and absorbed the solid, tense texture of him.
The kiss deepened, his hand left my hair and stroked over my shoulder. It slipped below the water line and rested on my waist. Just his touch, his flesh on mine was like a match to gasoline, it rushed across my flesh creating a burning desire that was spiraling dangerously out of control.
Who was I kidding? I was already out of control. Pressing up harder against him, I fed back the same hungry kisses he was giving me. Our tongues mated. He was hot and wet and eager, his body a rock beneath the bubbling water.
“You feel good, wild thing,” he said, his voice deeper, rougher than before. “So damn good.”
Have a great Sunday.