“You look beautiful tonight,” I said.
“Thank you. I hoped you’d like this dress.”
We stopped walking just under the trellis, next to a corner of the
house. From here, we couldn’t see the rest of the party, but we
could hear everything. Hundreds of people stood just a few feet
away from us, and they’d come looking for us soon. We had
commitments and expectations to fulfill, but at that moment, my
eyes and my attention were on her.
“Did you wear it just for me?” I said.
“Yes,” she said under her breath. “Just for you. I do everything
just for you –”
My mouth covered hers in a rough, intense kiss. I gripped her
face with one hand and the small of her back with the other,
crushing her to me in a split second of passion that didn’t have
any boundaries, a passion that broke every rule, and defied
everything that made sense in my life. My tongue twisted and
shoved against hers and she opened her body beneath me as
our kisses deepened. Before long, I forced us against the ivy wall
of the house, and there we were, locked together in a moment
that somehow we’d claimed as ours and ours alone.
I only broke the kiss when she moaned against my mouth.
Something about the sound made me remember where we were.
Who I was. What we were doing. How wrong it all was from the
standpoint of everything I had ever been taught.
No. We couldn’t do this. No. No. No.
Someone might see.
Above us, inside the house, a light in the study flipped on and I
heard two voices. Had they seen us already?
“I’m sorry,” I said as I forced our lips apart. I took an immediate
step away from her, but it did little to calm us both. Her breath
came out hard and fast, a series of quick pants, as if she hadn’t
wanted to breathe while we kissed.
And I don’t know what unsettled me more: the kissing or the look
of extreme pleasure she had on her face.
“I am . . . I’m . . . I should go.” I said.
Without another word, I turned and disappeared down the
pathway, leaving her alone against the ivy.
Journalist. Novelist. Broadcaster. Blogger.
An overactive imagination has always served Sara Celi well.
Starting from age 10, with an epic tale about a soldier during the
Civil War, Sara has made creating stories her life’s work.
After graduating cum laude from Western Kentucky University in
2004 with a degree in Broadcast News and History, Sara Celi
started her decade-long career in broadcast journalism at TV
stations in Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Ohio.
Her love of the written word came to fruition with the publishing
of her first novel, The Undesirable, in 2013 and has since
published The Palms and Prince Charming.
Born in New Orleans and having lived all over the United States,
Sara Celi now calls the Greater Cincinnati area home. In her
spare time, she likes to read, shop, travel, run, volunteer with the
Junior League, serve on the board of Wesley Community
Services, and work with Cooperative for Education, a non-profit
providing educational opportunities for the children of
To keep up with Sara Celi and find out about her future works,
subscribe to her mailing list, The Celi Circle. Subscribers can
participate in exclusive giveaways and events. You can also
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