Brick wall pressing her back, Genna’s eyes drifted closed. John’s hand cradled the right side of her face. His lips hovered over hers and she felt the mild breeze of his exhale. He wasn’t crowding her. The only things she felt was the gentle touch of his left hand and the heat radiating from the right arm where it was braced.
And her lips. They tingled and pulsed waiting. Ever so slowly his mouth met hers. His bottom lip brushed her bottom lip once side to side. Her lips parted in unseen invite just as he leaned the last bit forward.
Heat ran down her front; from lips, through throat, branching at the sternum to make both breasts beg for their own soft touch, dancing a moment in her stomach and finally pooling in her womb. An icy rebound started immediately at her knees, making the wall the only reason she remained standing. The cold raced up her back. Her spine shivered, her shoulders tensed, and her head moved forward so the ice could melt. His hot hand understood the need, moving through her hair to cup the back of her head.
John’s lips moved back and Genna’s eyes opened. Her blue eyes looked into his vivid green. As she watched him about to speak, all she could think was “Please don’t make this moment stop.”
(words 226 - originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 12/9/2012 with the visual prompt inspiring it before the site was taken down as well as my blog; could not find photo copyright permissions so did not copy; republished new blog format 9/11/2016)