So, if someone had told me that this day would end with Crew Turner kissing me I'd probably have laughed in their face then gone home and ate an entire pint of ice cream while doing my best not to cry in my pillow. I'd imagined what it would be like, what those amazing lips would feel like pressed on mine, how his body might mold against me, how he would taste if I ever got the chance to kiss him.
Imagination? Pfft. Pale comparison.
Maybe my inner feminist should have protested the unagreed to kiss now being deployed against my lips that moved in time with his though I didn't give them the go-ahead to do so. Instead, I leaned into him, feeling my entire body sigh in answer to his touch, the delicious taste and scent and warmth of him spreading a happy ball of delighted tingling from the center of me to every extremity until I vibrated with the zinging joy that was kissing Crew Turner.