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“I know about kissing, Cassie." He sounded genuinely affronted, and I cringed at what I'd just implied--- even as my knees went weal at the implication of what he'd just said. He'd been alive--- or, his equivalent of alive--- for hundreds of years. He'd probably kissed hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. In fact--- he was probably really good at kissing. "I'm sure you do," I said, too flustered to look at his face anymore. My gaze drifted down to his ridiculous apron. This Guy Rubs His Own Meat. I flushed deeper with the awkwardness of this entire situation. How was any of this happening?” — Jenna Levine
I know about kissing, Cassie."
He sounded genuinely affronted, and I cringed at what I'd just implied--- even as my knees went weal at the implication of what he'd just said. He'd been alive--- or, his equivalent of alive--- for hundreds of years. He'd probably kissed hundreds of people. Maybe thousands.
In fact--- he was probably really good at kissing.
"I'm sure you do," I said, too flustered to look at his face anymore. My gaze drifted down to his ridiculous apron. This Guy Rubs His Own Meat. I flushed deeper with the awkwardness of this entire situation. How was any of this happening?