Red Hot Kisses

by Addison Moore

  She wrinkles her nose a moment and looks cute as hell in the process. “What about you? Are you going to do something to me?” Her voice rises an octave as she issues the words as if they were a dare and they are. I know exactly what Trixie Toberman is daring me to do. But I’m not playing that game tonight. Or at least I shouldn’t.

  “Is there anything in particular you had in mind?” My tongue does a revolution around my lips without meaning to as if preparing for a snack. “Trixie.” Her name expires from me low and flat as if someone knocked the wind out of me. “I won’t do a thing unless you tell me exactly what you want me to do.” There. Tonight we own it. I’m not going for the kill like she may have wanted—heck, like I may have wanted.

  A moment of silence fills the air between us, and it’s a standoff, her violet blue eyes glaring into mine as if I had the audacity to ask her to name it and claim it.

  “Why do you do it? Why do you kiss me?” Her eyes sparkle like shards as the ride moves us up smoothly another notch.

  My fingers work their way through her cool, smooth hair, and I quickly trace out those full soft as down lips with my thumb. “Because you’re beautiful, and I can’t seem to help myself whenever you’re around.” I swallow hard as I look her in the eyes. “You gave me a hit, and now I’m addicted. I’ve got one serious problem, and I don’t know how to quit.” I’ve never spoken so much truth backed with so much emotion. Every word is true as God.

  Her mouth falls open as she takes in a quick breath.

  “You don’t think I’m beautiful,” she scolds as if demanding a retraction.

  That sweet vanilla scent only seems to turn up the volume of my lust for her, and suddenly I want to show her exactly how beautiful I think she is, but a part of me knows she needs to hear the words first.

  “You’re beautiful, Trix. With you around, all the girls at Briggs, at this fair tonight, just fade into the background like white noise. You have the trees, the wind, the sun, and the moon bending to peek at your glory. I’ve seen it. You’re not just a knockout. You’re a fucking goddess walking around campus.” I can feel my cheeks getting hot, and I try to swallow down my budding embarrassment. “In case you’re wondering, I’ve never said that to any other girl before. You’re special, Trix.”

  Her lips twitch, and I can’t tell if she’s about to laugh or cry. “I’ve never had anyone say anything so nice to me before.” She wipes a tear from her cheek, quick as lightning, as if ashamed to own it.

  “Why do you kiss me?” I ask as we rise higher into the Hollow Brook sky. “That’s the real million dollar question. You found me that night and dragged me upstairs as if you landed on the bad end of a truth or dare. Was it me, or would you have grabbed anyone?” Seth comes to mind, but I don’t say it.

  Trixie takes in a breath, and that fuzzy soft sweater of hers expands in all the right places. Her lips glow pink against the neon light raging above us. “I kissed you because I was told not to.” She gives a little shrug, her lashes hanging low and seductive. “I kissed you because you were the only boy in the room who made my stomach squeeze tight, and managed to enrage me all at the very same time.” She leans in. “I kissed you because I wanted to. I wanted to see what all of the hype was about. I had to know if it was worth risking a venereal disease or two.”

  “Was it?”

  Her eyes widen a notch as she gives the slightest hint of a nod. “Or two, or twelve.”

  Trixie brushes her lips over mine and pulls a groan from deep inside of me that demands far more than a simple graze, but I pull away.

  My eyes can hardly stay open as I look down on her glowing features, her eyes pleading for me to play along one more time.

  “Say it,” I whisper. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

  Trixie takes in a ragged breath as her grip over my body intensifies. “Kiss me,” she mouths the words.

  “Louder.”

  “Kiss me,” she hisses just above a whisper, and a slow spreading grin takes over as I land my mouth over hers. Trixie pulls me in by the back of the neck, and I land her on my lap, our lips never disconnecting. Her tongue does its best to latch over mine, and we swim hungry and fierce in one another’s mouths. My entire body relaxes, and it hasn’t since the last time we were doing exactly this. Kissing Trixie is like taking in a lungful of air after skin diving far too deep to ever be safe. You can only hold your breath for so long before you black out and die, and that’s exactly what it felt like not being able to press my lips to hers.

  Trixie and I kiss for the next twenty-five minutes straight, the wind in our hair as the wheel we’re on flies through the sky at quickened speeds. Her hands slip under my shirt and run along my abs, and everything in me begs to return the favor, but I can’t seem to do it. As much as I enjoy the living hell out of these kisses, it wouldn’t feel right going that far, not here. Not with someone’s little sister. Trixie deserves better than that—better than me.

  But I trace her curves, her hips, her thighs, dig my fingers into that thick ebony hair as I struggle to get my fill.

  The ride ends far too soon, and we’re evicted along with Clyde right back onto solid ground.

  Trixie and I walk hand in hand to the periphery where the trees shroud us in darkness and find a home against the trunk of an oak at least a hundred years old.

  We glance up as the stars spray out from between the branches, the fiery red leaves each as big as my hand.

  “What are we doing?” I whisper, too afraid that I might know the answer.

  She pulls me in by the collar and dots my lips with a kiss. “I think we both know what we’re doing, Rush. And I’m pretty sure we’re both enjoying the hell out of it.” She gives a little shrug as she scratches the stubble on my cheeks. “We just can’t tell anyone else how much we enjoy it. I guess that makes you my dirty little secret.” She bites down on her lip with glee.

  “I don’t believe in secrets, Trix.” I wrap my arms around her with the woeful news. “I run the social networks for Briggs. I’ve never seen a secret safe yet.”

  Her eyes outshine the autumn moon. “Well, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep this one close to the vest for the next four years.”

  A laugh rumbles from deep within me. “I graduate in one.”

  She beckons me close with a curl of her finger, and I’m quick to obey. “You’ll come back for me. I’m your favorite drug, remember?”

  “How can I forget?” I crash my mouth over hers and lunge right into something deeper, darker than we’ve shared before. And something about the simple act of verbalizing this thing between us only seems to have stoked the flames.

  Trixie thinks I’ll come back for her, for this—and hell, we both know she’s right.

  I’d come back year after year, take a beating from both her brothers and her stepbrother, too, on the regular just to have Trixie Toberman warm my mouth with hers.

  Trixie might be somebody’s little sister—but she’s not mine.

  Nope. She’s my favorite addiction.

  And something tells me, I will never fully recover.

  Trix or Treat

  Trixie

  A week traipses by, then another, and soon we’re in the throes of an entire legion of pumpkins in every color, shape, and size, cutouts of witches and skeletons, and a Halloween pop-up store on every other corner. October has always been one of my favorite months, dark, brooding, and a little bit scary, just like me. I’m still a bit miffed for subjecting myself to one big confessional on that Ferris wheel with Rush. But in my defense, I was under extreme duress, and anything and everything was liable to spew from my mouth. But those kisses... Rush has been by my side for every single Love in the Night show, and, of course, being the kinky gentleman he is, has offered to walk me back to Cutler Tower each and every time. And being the lusty young woman I’m turning out to be, I offered up my lips as payment. It’s weird. During the day, we’re pretty much back to loathing one another—okay, so it’s mostly me loathing him,
but still things are far too normal. It’s as if those kisses, that entire conversation back in that death trap—aka the Ferris wheel—never happened.

  I do my best to shake all thoughts of Rush Knight out of my head, despite the fact his sister and I are headed to Hallowed Grounds for a cup of much-needed pumpkin spice everything. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been able to pick apart Sunday’s ultra-feminine features and spot those of her brother’s lurking in there. I can see him in her eyes—the almond-shaped slant, her brows—although heavily doctored—are similar to his, and they have the same nose, straight and perfect. Sunday is perfect in general, and I loathe the fact I’m forced to admit, Rush is, too.

  We step into Hallowed Grounds, with its thick scent of coffee, the oversized framed pictures of the Hollow Brook overlook they’ve recently put up along with the mandatory cups of steamy coffee, and barrels full of fresh roasted beans. I love this place. And right now, I love it just a little bit more because there’s hardly anyone haunting the place. Hallowed Grounds is notorious for inconceivably long lines that snake right out the door.

  “Only three people in front of us,” Sunday chirps as she slings an arm around my shoulder. “I know you’re secretly doing a happy dance.”

  “Are you kidding? You should have seen the line I slayed at the Fall Festival.” No sooner do the words spill out than I wish I could slurp them back up again. Geez. I went with her freaking brother. I’m pretty sure Sunday doesn’t want to hear all the gory details of our not-so-friendly little lip-lock.

  “Who’d you go to the festival with?”

  Crap. “Oh, just you know—Knox and stuff.”

  “And stuff? Did he win Clyde for us?” Her left brow arches in that cute way Rush is prone to do, and I melt a little on the inside. Swear to God, I did not just melt for Sunday.

  I nod like a dolphin until the barista barks at us to step up to the counter.

  We put in our orders, and while waiting for our drinks, Serena and Harley show up and we all grab a table near the window. Neither Sunday nor I have mentioned Clyde or the festival again, so things may not be so terrible after all.

  Serena stomps her coffee cup over the table as if calling the meeting to order. “Kappa Kappa Gamma is throwing a Halloween party. Harley and I are both going as cats.” She holds her fingers up in the shape of a V and waves them across her eye.

  Sunday grunts, “I’m going as myself. I haven’t worn a costume since I was three.” She averts her eyes, and I see him flickering in them, making my stomach bisect with heat. “I might do some cool things on my face—a butterfly mask, a skull with flowers. How about you?” She takes a bite of her cake pop in the shape of a pumpkin while looking my way.

  “I’m going as Knox’s twin. I can’t remember the last time I wore a costume either. And even though the cat sounds cute and sexy—knowing me, I’d just resent the boys for gawking at me that way.” Truth. It doesn’t take much for me to hate society at large, and offering someone the silhouette of my body on a pumpkin platter that night will only accelerate the effort.

  Harley shakes her head and looks exactly like her sister’s twin. It’s weird that Harley’s sister and my brother are getting it on. Freaky actually. The thought that anyone could see past my brother’s smelly socks and propensity to play computer games at all hours of the night is actually a bit heroic once you think about it. Harper deserves a medal.

  “You both have to dress up,” she scolds Sunday and me in a firm, motherly tone. “It’s no admission unless you’re in costume, so if you want to have fun, on this, the first Halloween at WB, you’ll need to pony up and put on your big girl cat suit.”

  “Cat suit, huh?” Rush’s pussy posse comes to mind, and I growl without meaning to.

  “Fine”—Serena inches back—“werewolves are welcomed, too.”

  “I’m thinking more of a canine,” I shoot back with a greasy grin slipping up my face. “A female dog to be exact.”

  Sunday knocks me in the ribs with her elbow. “They said wear a costume, remember?”

  “You’re not funny.”

  The conversation peters out, and we talk about the icy weather, our endless papers that are due between now and the first week in December, the new cosmetics counter at the bookstore, and, of course, boys—in a very vague general sense since none of us have our eyes on a plus one. Not really. Mostly not. Okay, maybe.

  “You know”—Sunday winces over at me while swilling her coffee in one hand—“you’re awful quiet. You sure there’s not someone you’ve got your eye on?”

  “Who me?” My spine straightens as if someone just drove a stake through it—as if her words had the power to drive the fear of God into me, and they do. “Nope. Not I. I hate boys. I hate all members of the opposite sex in fact, sans my dad and brothers, of course.” Liar, liar, vagina on fire. The only one I really hate at the moment is me.

  The three of them continue to stare at me as if I just sprouted a third eye.

  “Nobody hates boys,” Serena huffs. “Speaking of which.” She plucks her purse off the ground and bounces to her feet. “They give the best tips. I’m headed to the Black Bear. See you witches later!”

  Harley stands and calls for her to wait. “I’m headed to the library.” She wrinkles her nose at me. “No offense, Trixie, but thou doeth protest too much. Give up his name or we’ll be forced to sink to unkosher resources to retrieve this delicate information.”

  I scoff as they speed out the door.

  “As if. Like really? Come on.” I lean back and fold my arms over my chest. My heart’s beating so fast, and I can hardly catch my breath.

  “Wow, that was visceral.” Sunday squints into me the way Rush does just before he’s about to crash his mouth over mine, and I let out a little yelp.

  She sucks in a breath, laughing while collecting her books. “You do like somebody. Ha! I’ve got a study session in the commons room, but I swear if you don’t confess his name by midnight, I’m going in full detective mode.”

  “Full detective mode?” a deep voice strums from above, and we look up to find Knox with a tight smile. “Anything you need my help with?”

  “No!” we both shout in unison.

  “I gotta run.” Sunday makes a face that screams a quasi-apology. “Oh, and hey”—she taps Knox over the arm—“that was so sweet of you to take your sister to the Fall Festival! I wish my brother would take a cue from you. And that donkey you won is beyond adorable. He’s our official room mascot.” She gives a spastic wave before ducking out the door, and I suddenly have the urge to bolt right along with her.

  “Mascot, huh?” Knox flips a chair around and sits on it backwards. He leans in with a sober expression, just trying to read my features.

  “Nope. Not going there with you,” I’m quick to say.

  “So there is a guy.” Knox makes it sound like the death sentence it is for both the guy in question and me.

  “I didn’t say there was a guy.” My face floods with heat that might as well have formed a neon sign across my forehead that reads, there is a guy!

  Knox furrows his brows. His face contorts into something just this side of pissed.

  “Who is he?” His voice softens in that fake way that lets me know he’s all about bashing Rush’s head in. God—if he knew it was Rush, he’d bash every last part of him in.

  “Well, I gotta run. I have a group meeting in the media room. You know, radio stuff.” God, I’m such a terrible liar. And then a thought comes to me. “Actually, I have to go over emails for that advice column I’m working on. Can you believe, come next fall, I’ll be the fountain of sexual truth to anyone who has a dirty question to ask?” I do love to watch my brother squirm.

  Knox glowers at me a second. “That’s a frightening thought. You get that email from Mom this morning?”

  As a long-standing rule, all emails from my mother are promptly ignored or deleted. I don’t really care to open yet another annoying avenue of communication with her.

  �
��I didn’t think so.” Knox tips his head to the side, pleading with me before he says a word. “She told me about that card she gave you a few weeks back.” He twists his palm against his eye as if the whole idea fatigued him. “I told her it wasn’t necessary. We’d go.”

  “What? I’m not going. Dad never brainwashed me. In fact, did you get the text from Dad yesterday? He wants to meet for dinner.”

  Knox twists his lips, just staring at me as if trying to find the right words to put together. “You know, Dad may not have brainwashed us, but he didn’t exactly demand we visit her while she was in prison either.”

  “We were kids! FYI: prison is a scary place. Most rational people understand that. And most rational people understand that when you get out of prison and divorce your husband, it feels like you’re abandoning your family all over again.”

  “That’s not what happened, Trix.”

  “It is. I was there.” I gather my things and spike to my feet.

  “She just wants a relationship with you. Can’t you cap the hostility already? Grow up and move on. Have dinner with her once in a while. Go to that stupid meeting with me.”

  “No,” I bark at him so loud, half the place turns to inspect the situation. “And don’t you dare go either. You are siding with me on this one. Got it? We’re a team, Knox.” My voice cracks. “Do not betray me.” I speed out into the sub-Arctic temperatures and note the storm brewing above campus, dark purple clouds with painfully fat bellies that look as if they’re begging to be lanced.

  I know how they feel. My heart has felt the same way for as long as I can remember.

  * * *

  Since I may have spilled not one but two lies at my brother’s feet—and since there was no way I was about to confess to the fact there was a boy in my life—I figured it was a good time to catch up on my advice column instead and reduce the falsehoods by one.