Novel Treatments / Skin Deep - First Kiss

“So who’s your favorite fighter in Poison Clan?” Ryan asked.
Charlene settled back on the sofa with her legs folded underneath her. “Hmm, I’m not sure.”
Ryan pointed to the television. “The Centipede has the best moves, plus he’s faster than the others.”
Charlene stared at him in disbelief. “You’re tripping, right? Lizard has way better moves than Centipede plus he can walk on walls. I bet if the two them went at it, Lizard would whoop Centipede’s butt with the quickness.”
“Are you serious?”
“Damn, skippy. Everybody knows that my man, Lizard, is the best kungfu fighter in his entire crew. That’s why he’s the leader.”
She raised her hands making a chopping motion like the martial artists on the television screen.
“Yeah, but can he do this?”
Charlene turned just in time to see the mischievous glint in Ryan’s eyes right before he pounced on her, pressing her down against the sofa cushions, tickling her rib cage mercilessly. She squirmed, trying to escape from his grasp, but it was no use. He had her right where he wanted her.
“Stop…stop,” she cried, tears and laughter being forced from her trembling body.
“Who’s the best kungfu fighter of all time?” He demanded.
“Bruce Lee,” she choked out.
“Wrong answer! I guess I have to show you my tiger claw.”
Charlene let out another peal of laughter.
“Say I’m the best kungfu fighter you ever saw. Better than Bruce Lee, Chuck Norris, and David Carradine combined.”
“Okay, okay,” she said, barely able to catch her breath. “I’m the best kungfu…”
“Wrong answer again!”

He shifted his weight on top of her. Her eyes widened, feeling the ridge of his jeans more tightly against her pelvis. She attempted to scoot away from him, but his nimble fingers moved swiftly over her body, continuing their assault.

“Get off me, Ryan.” She demanded, her voice shaking, but not quite from laughter. Her nipples were turning into hard pebbles underneath her bra. Heat rose into her cheeks at her body’s sudden reaction.

Ryan gave her a wicked smile that made her heart race, not realizing how the game had changed between them. He didn’t know that more was at stake then just her pride.

“Not until you tell me what I want to hear,” he said in a voice that she could only describe as seductive and little bit menacing.
“No….stop…please, I can’t breathe.” She gasped.
His tickles subsided, but his hand remained on her body, sending tremors down to her core. Then the amusement left his eyes and was replaced by something else.
She felt his eyes travel down to where his free hand was resting just below her right breast.
“You really want me to stop, Charlie...” He said with a hard swallow. His hot gaze was moving slowly up her body like a soft caress before returning to her face. “….touching you?”

Charlene lay frozen beneath him. Her only movement was the rapid rise and fall of her breasts against his broad chest. She swallowed over the lump that had somehow obstructed her speech.

“Ryan, I…”

Before she could get the words out, he was kissing her. She tensed, surprised by how soft and moist his lips felt. She tasted the salty residue left over from the hot buttered popcorn they shared and a hint of mint on his breath. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she melted as he gently sucked and nipped at her bottom lip. Then his tongue slid between the seam, rubbing against her front teeth, coaxing her to open her mouth to him. Despite the warning bells in her head, she did as he wanted. This time letting him have is way. Some fights were just not worth winning. She kissed him back, stroking his tongue with her tongue. Trading her energy with his energy. Her mind was swimming. His kisses were so deep, she thought he was trying to siphon the heat from between her legs through her mouth. He sucked on her tongue, drawing electrical tingles from the center of her body.

She sighed. Damn, this boy can kiss, she thought as another tremor rippled through her.

He let go of her wrists and began stroking her hair and face, his mouth never leaving hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, inhaling him deeply, enjoying all the flavors and smells that were uniquely his. She loved the citrus scented shampoo in his wavy dark hair, the woodsy, spice of his cologne, the slight musk of his sweat. She wondered how she could have sat close to Ryan for these past few weeks and not been affected by him.

Because he’s white and not your type, said the voice in her head.

After several long moments, Charlene finally came back to herself and broke the kiss. She pulled her head away to look into his face. His blue eyes were glazed over with desire. The same desire she felt growing hard against her pelvis. His arousal both scared and excited her. She had to admit to herself that her curiosity was piqued. Hell, it was more than piqued. She was burning for knowledge of the forbidden fruit lying on top of her, starring at her as if he wanted to take a bite as well. This must have been how Eve felt when she craved to taste the apple from the Tree of Life. But unlike Eve, Charlene knew her actions would end in disaster if she gave into it.

She took deep, steadying breath to calm her raging hormones.

“Ryan, I told you I don’t do this.”

“Do what? He tried to give her an innocent look, but failed to hide the satisfied smirk playing across his lips. Charlene wanted to smack that smug look right of his face.

“Don’t play stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”

“What? We’re just kissing?”

She gave him a look of her own.

His hand was under her shirt, flat against her stomach, thumb moving over her belly button. Oh, God. If he kept that up, she’d melt into a puddle and seep through his mother’s cushions. Ryan would have to sop her up with a sponge. She placed her hand over his to still the subconscious motion of his fingers.

“I don’t kiss white boys.”

His eyebrow rose. “You’re kissing one now.”

She lifted up on her elbows, which made him rise as well. “Not anymore.”

“That’s too bad,” he said, pinning her with a thoughtful look, “because I think you’re really good at it.”

Heat crept up her skin into her cheeks. At that moment, she thanked God for the honey brown complexion she’d inherited from her parents. She attempted to hide her embarrassment by throwing him a determined scowl.

“Well, it won’t be happening again.”

Ryan actually scoffed, then twisted his lips as if he knew that was a flat out lie.

“I mean it, Ryan. I don’t do white boys.”

His eyes narrowed into a glare. “But you’ll do black guys like James Carter?”

James Carter? What the…? Where did that come from?

“No.” she said, on the defensive. “And what does James Carter have to do with anything?”

Ryan sat up, leaning against the back of the sofa, a sullen look on his handsome face.

“I think he’s got a lot to do with everything.” He muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I think he’s the real reason you won’t give this a chance. It’s obvious you have a thing for him, you and every other girl in that damn school.” He turned to face her. “He’s a player, Charlie. He’ll hurt you.”

“Oh, and you won’t,” she said with sarcasm.

“No. I won’t,” he shot back, his expression deadly serious. “I care about you Charlie. I think we could have something special if you’ll just give us a chance. I- I want to be with you.”

Be with me? She couldn’t keep the stunned look off her face if she tried.

He was leaning towards her again, but was halted by her raised palm.

“Let’s get something straight, right now. I don’t have a ‘thing’ for James Carter. He’s not my type and neither are you. And as far as ‘this’ goes, I only want be your friend, Ryan. Nothing else. I don’t feel that way about you. I can’t feel that way. We’re just too different. If you can’t deal with it then I don’t think we should hang or study together anymore.”

Ryan remained quiet for several moments as if he were allowing the meaning of her words to sink in. Then he said, “What is your type?”

“Huh?”

“You just said that James and I are not you types, then who is?”

His off-handed question stomped her. Her mind came up blank.

“That’s what I thought,” he said with wry look. “How can you label me as “not your type” if you don’t even know what your type is?”

Charlene didn’t have answer so for once she said nothing.

“You know what I think Charlie. I think you’re scared. Scared of letting your guard down and letting someone like me in because I just might be your type after all.”

He stood up, raking his hands through his hair, making it a tousled mess. Charlene shrank back against the sofa, watching him pace in front of the television. “God forbid, if one of us actually had real feelings or could fall in love with you.” He paused to stare at her. “News flash, Charlie, you can’t put me in box and label me because I do have real feelings. I suffer, hurt and bleed just like you do so we’re not that different. And I could love you if you stop being such a hard ass about it.”

Charlene lowered her eyes, trying to think of a rebuttal that would refute his words, but she knew it was true, all of it. Finally she said, “Ryan, take me home.”

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