Chemistry of a Kiss

by Kimberly Krey

  I couldn’t help but look at his yummy lips in return as all those sensors started into action once more. It was part of our ceremony. The ritual. A thing I’d come to call the chemistry of a kiss.

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine in a full, dreamy exchange that had me grasping onto his shoulders as a sigh sounded in my throat.

  Best. Kisses. Ever.

  “Let’s go dance,” he mumbled against my lips.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Jett led me into the gym just as a Pearl Jam song kicked on. One of my favorites. We found Bailey and Summer’s group soon enough, and joined in on the fun, playing air guitar one moment, while swaying to the rhythm the next.

  Kissing Jett might be one of my favorite things, but I was glad we knew how to have fun hanging out together as well. As a new song picked up, Emmy came around with her camera and had us pose for a pic. Jett hoisted me right off the ground and cradled me for the pose. The other guys in the group followed suit as the girls squealed, creating what was sure to be a fun shot.

  “Awesome,” Emmy said as her boyfriend Ky wrapped his arm around her. Looked like it was time to pass the camera on. I hoped someone would be getting pictures of those two together as well.

  I glanced around the gym, eyeing all the couples that had gotten together over the last few months. A dose of warmth and gratitude filled my heart. Senior year was off to an incredible start, and I couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the year might bring.

  Not to mention the rest of the evening.

  Tonight was sure to include a deeper conversation about the last few days, which was good. I looked forward to being more open with Jett, and taking my brilliant grandparents’ advice as best I could. Of course, I assumed the evening would end with another incredible kiss. The very idea made goosebumps race up my arms while my heart did a little dance of its own.

  Our assignment might be over, but Jett was my boyfriend now, which meant we’d get to study the topic a whole lot more.

  That was definitely something to look forward to.

  Epilogue

  “Is the ham ready?” Missy spun her way over to the counter, gracefully picked up the basket of rolls, and tiptoed her way to the dining room table.

  “Almost,” Mom said as she pried open the oven. “Come look at the glaze. It’s getting brown and bubbly.”

  I abandoned the napkin folding long enough to join Missy and Mom at the oven. The fact that we were actually having so many normal foods today made this Christmas Eve dinner extra special. Sure, Mom spent a couple hundred dollars to get a ham and glaze that met her strict standards, and the mixed veggies and fruit salad were up to those standards too, but Mom threw caution to the wind by letting me pick out fresh bakery rolls at the market. Go Mom!

  Better yet, Mom wasn’t the one in charge of the cheesy potatoes this year. One of our special guests was bringing them. A guest who’d learned from the woman who usually baked those cheesy potatoes for every funeral, sick home, or special event at Sweet Water Worship. That’s right. Jett and his dad were coming over for dinner.

  It’d been more of a last minute thing. Ava and Ivy had flown out to spend time with their grandmother for the first half of winter break. There hadn’t been any change in his parents’ situation, as far as Jett knew, but he was hopeful. Anyway, the twins planned to travel back here with Cathy so the family could spend Christmastime together, which seemed like a good sign. Sadly, their flight had been delayed, and when Mom heard about it, she extended the offer and they said yes. Bam!

  Missy and I helped Mom with the last minute preparations before the guests arrived. Christmas songs played softly from the speakers I’d installed last week. Potted chrysanthemums were placed on each side table, their scarlet petals and green leaves adding the perfect Christmas color splash. I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful gold ring Jett had bought me last week. This one had a snowflake to represent our first winter as a couple.

  Grams and Gramps came first, and then my incredibly handsome boyfriend and his dad. Dating the pastor’s son turned out not to be too awkward since Pastor Bryant was such a cool guy. Even cooler, I decided, when I saw that he brought a gorgeous cream pie that was sure to taste as good as it looked since he, unlike Mom, bought normal stuff.

  Dinner was perfect. Incredible food, delicious drinks in fancy glasses—courtesy of Grams and her sparkling cider “for the kids”—and a whole lot of heartfelt laughter.

  Most of that was brought on by Gramps and his stories of Christmas past. Some when he was young, a few from when he and Grams were dating, and a touching one about my mom when she was a little girl. I hadn’t heard it before, but she’d snuck over to the neighbor’s Christmas morning with her Christmas cash—twenty dollars, which was a lot for a seven-year-old—and slipped it into their mailbox. Apparently, her friend’s father had been laid off.

  The Christmas spirit came alive with that story, and also while we took turns reading the Christmas story out of the gospels beside the fireplace. Jett and I offered to clean up while the rest of the group lounged in the living room, watching Missy spin around to the carols.

  I bumped Jett’s elbow with mine as we stood side-by-side at the sink. “Merry Christmas,” I said.

  Jett dipped a finger into the mounding bubbles and dabbed it onto my nose with a grin. “Merry Christmas to you.”

  My hands deep in the suds, I rubbed the tiny bubbles with my sleeve. “Did you see where I put the mistletoe?” I asked while handing over a plate.

  Jett dunked it in the rinse, rubbing at the surface before placing it in the rack. “Nope,” he said. “But I’ve been looking for it, trust that.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see the group was enthralled by Missy’s invisible tightrope act. The girl knew how to entertain, that was sure. “Come here,” I said, snatching a hand towel to dry my hands. Jett used it next, then followed me over to the pantry. He looked up at the bare wall above the doorframe, but I shook my head and pulled open the door.

  He stepped inside and tipped his head back. A wide grin came over his face. “Nice.”

  I lifted a brow. “Right? I’m thinking of leaving it there year-round.”

  “That’s a good idea.” He snatched me by the hand and yanked me inside with him. Suddenly it got dark, which told me he’d pulled the door closed behind me. His hands cupped my hips as he placed a series of soft, tempting kisses over my cheek.

  “You know that thing I said in class about romantic chemistry? That I didn’t think it was a real thing?”

  “Umm hmm.” He moved to a spot very close to my earlobe, causing a rush of euphoria to pour over me. “I remember,” he assured, his hot breath teasing my skin.

  “Well, I lied.”

  Jett pulled back. “Does that mean you don’t have…what did you specify back then…love and respect for me?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. We just happen to have all three.”

  Jett leaned in and pressed his lips to mine in a heavenly, lingering kiss, proving that I would never grow immune to the effect he had on me. “You’re right,” he mumbled, kissing me again. And then once more—a wonderful, mind-tingling kiss.

  A moment later he pushed the door open and took hold of my hands. “We better finish these dishes so we can break out the pie. I saw you eying that thing.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, but did you see me graze the top with a spoon and take a taste?”

  He chuckled. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “I was tempted,” I said.

  As we made our way back to the sink, I thought back on the other topic Ms. Tolken brought up that day. The one about being able to make people change. I no longer believed I could force someone to change. I did, however, believe that it was important to speak up, as Gramps suggested. Jett and I were putting that in practice quite a bit, and it had brought us closer already.

  Time would only tell if the future would bring what we hoped it might, but so far, with the two of us going to the same
school, and plans of carpooling and summer vacations already in the works, we were off to a very good start. And for a season as wonderful and promising as Christmastime was, I couldn’t think of a better gift.

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  About the Author

  Writing Romance That’s Clean Without Losing the Steam!

  Award-winning author Kimberly Krey has always been a fan of good, clean romance, so she decided to specialize in writing 'Romance That's Clean without Losing the Steam'. She's a fervent lover of God, family, and cheese platters, as well as the ultimate hater of laundry. Follow her on any of the sites below for updates on new releases and or giveaways.

  Also by Kimberly Krey

  Unlikely Cowgirl Series

  Once Hitched Twice Shy

  How to Catch a Cowboy in 10 Days

  This Cowboy’s a Keeper

  Country Brides & Cowboy Boots ~ Cobble Creek Romance

  The Sheriff’s Bride

  The Lumberjack’s Bride

  The Snapshot Bride

  The Sweet Montana Bride Series

  Reese’s Cowboy Kiss

  Jade’s Cowboy Crush

  Cassie’s Cowboy Crave

  Second Chances Series

  Rough Edges

  Mending Herats

  Fresh Starts

  Beach Romance

  Catching Waves: A Sweet Beach Romance (The Royal Palm Resort Book 2)

  Young Adult Novellas

  Getting Kole for Christmas

  Getting Micah under the Mistletoe

  Chemistry of a Kiss

  Novella

  Ranch Hand for Auction

  Navy SEALs Romance

  The Honorable Warrior

  The Fearless Warrior

  Also see

  Her TV Bachelor Fake Fiancé

  The Cowboy’s Catch (in Big Sky Anthology)

  Sample Chapter by Tia Soulders from Falling for My Nemesis

  CHAPTER ONE

  My life was a wreck, and this was my current state of chaos.

  I glanced around the gymnasium at my fellow classmates as I pulled my strawberry-blonde hair up into a messy bun. It was hard to be invested in any class when it felt like your life was crumbling around your feet. As if this period weren’t useless enough, there was a sub today, which meant gym was pretty much a free for all. Mr. Gorby, a frequent sub at Sweet Water, was notorious for maintaining a consistent lack of control in the classroom.

  The boys were currently playing a rather barbaric game of basketball—grunting and shoving, checking other guys into the ground. Meanwhile, a smattering of girls did their hair on the bleachers while the rest of us walked laps around the gym, pretending to “exercise” when really most of us were just gossiping and ogling the boys on the skins team. Myself included.

  And don’t forget to add the pleasurable bouquet emanating from the cafeteria across the hall to the ambiance. What? You don’t like the scent of sweat and hot dogs? Who woulda thought.

  Still, that didn’t deter me from making my assessment as I strolled beside Harper and she chattered on about the Snowflake Ball, to which I had yet to snag a date.

  I allowed my gaze to drift over the boys—my prospects—mentally checking off the roster in my head. Lucas Addington—taken. (Besides, I preferred jocks.) Ky Andrews—double taken. Wes Schultz…my gaze took an extra second to ponder his physique. He had the dark hair blue-eyed thing going for him, which I loved, but Lauren Carmichael snatched him up earlier in the year when they ended their family feud. Dang.

  Who else…? My gaze drifted right over Jett. Harper’s presence beside me served as a reminder that he, too, was unavailable. That left…

  I made a final round with my gaze and paused when my eyes zeroed in on Carson Brooks, then I groaned. Not him. Anyone but him.

  “Mia, hello?” Harper snapped her fingers in front of my face. “I asked you a question.”

  “Oh,” I tore my gaze away from Carson, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I wanted was for him to catch me staring. He might think I liked the view, which I most certainly did not. “What’d you ask me?”

  “Still no date yet? To the Snowflake Ball?” Harper asked, blinking down at me.

  “Nope. But I have more important things to worry about, like the fact that I have yet to hear back about early admissions at any of the schools I applied to.” Or like the fact that my parents were on the verge of divorce. My family was falling apart, and I was helpless to stop it—just another cherry on top of the rapidly melting sundae that was my life.

  Harper scrunched her nose and tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “Early admissions? I didn’t realize you applied for any of those.”

  I grunted. Harper was great, but right now I really needed my best friend, Ethan. He’d understand that when I said I’m worried about college admissions, what I really meant was that I needed some good news—something, anything to lift the mood at home, currently set to epic levels of despair. My parents were fighting on the daily, turning what started as little spats into brutal screaming matches, and if I could just get some news worth celebrating, maybe I could bring us together again. Maybe I could stop the war. Worst-case scenario, an acceptance letter meant I had an escape come fall.

  The fight from this morning flashed in my head. The one I overheard on my way out the door. My mother had gone on one of her shopping sprees again, and Dad was not happy about it. Though I had no idea why. My family had plenty of money. Maybe we weren’t rich like the Schultz’s or the Carmichael’s, but we did well. Who cared if Mom blew a few hundred on crap she didn’t need? At least she wasn’t drooling over her new assistant at work. Or, at least that’s what Mom accused him of the other night during one of our fun-filled family dinners.

  “Yeah. They start letting people know this month,” I said, returning to the present.

  Harper’s brow furrowed. “Where’d you apply again?”

  “A couple different places, but Duke is my first pick.”

  “Nice. Close enough to home but far enough away you have an excuse to stay on campus.”

  Yeah. Maybe two hours, too close.

  I snorted. “Tell that to Ethan. He’d rather I just go to the community college here.”

  “Well, you two have been attached at the hip since the Brook’s moved here in grade school.”

  My lips quirked. “True.”

  “So, if you don’t have a date to the Snowflake Ball, why don’t you and Ethan go together?”

  I wish. “He’s already taking someone.”

  Out of all my friends, I was the only loser without a date. How fun. Normally, Ethan was my back-up, but not this time, which kind of stunk because friends were the best dates at dances, anyway. Not that I had much to compare to. I hadn’t dated anyone since my Sophomore year when Greg Harlow dumped me because he said I was a prude, the jerk. It wasn’t my fault I have a moral compass and he was disgusting.

  Since then, I forgot all about finding a love life. I’d been too busy trying to please my parents, be the perfect daughter, the ideal student to so much as flirt with another boy. I was barely hanging onto my family as it was. I was the glue—neutral ground. I may as well call myself Switzerland. And if I could just hang in there a few more months, then I’d be off to school, and if they fell apart, at least I could say I tried. At least I wouldn’t have a front-row seat.

  I sighed as I looked at Harper’s sorrowful expression, and she said, “You could always just go stag?”

  I groaned. Yeah, I could. If I wanted to commit social suicide.

  A burst of laughter from center-court stole my attention. I glanced over to see Carson cackling with Olivia, a basketball casually hooked under his arm, looking as carefree as ever.

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to Harper. Typical. Of course he would be fawning all over someone like her. He was probably going to the dance with either her or Tas
ha, one of the Sweet Water’s MG’s. They might be popular and beautiful, but they earned their nickname as the school’s Mean Girls for a reason. I couldn’t imagine if I showed up dateless. No doubt Carson would relish to the opportunity to rub my solo-status in my face.

  I could picture his face now, those crystal blue eyes glittering menacingly under the disco ball in the gym, his hair dark and rumpled. Couldn’t get a date, Shorty? he’d say, and then I’d punch him.

  Ugh. Why was I even thinking about him?

  I crossed my arms over my chest and mustered a smile. “No worries. I’m sure I’ll—”

  My words cut off at the sound of someone yelling, “heads up!”

  But it was too late.

  I wasn’t fast enough. I was too wrapped up in my own personal crisis to react before the basketball smashed into my face—wham!

  I doubled over, my hands flying to where the ball torpedoed into my eye socket. The pain was sharp—blinding. It took my breath away. Several seconds ticked by before I managed to straighten and inhale, blinking a few times, eyes watering as I searched my surroundings with my good eye like a pirate.

  My gaze narrowed, knife-sharp, zeroing in on my assailant. None other than Carson Brooks was right in my line of vision, a smirk plastered across his perfectly symmetrical pretty-boy face.

  I dropped my hand from my throbbing eye and Harper gasped beside me, covering her mouth, mumbling a muffled, “Oh my gosh.”

  I gave her a cursory glance—she wasn’t helping—before I returned my focus back to the court where Carson began to laugh. Not a chuckle, but a bent over at the waist, full on belly roll.

  And I snapped.

  My hands balled at my side, while I stormed the eight feet separating us to his spot on the court, my eyes blazing, fists at the ready. I was a woman possessed as I closed the gap. All of my problems culminated in the single moment he lobbed the basketball into my face, and I was sure it was him. I had never been more certain of anything in my life. It was always him prodding me, poking me, pricking his needle-sharp jabs under my skin.