Writing Mr. Right by Michaela Wright

his shirt, as much to hold herself up as to touch him. He felt electric, like warmth burning from inside her very bones. It left her completely breathless.
    He pulled from her lips just so. “Sorry. Don’t know why I did that.”
    Georgia didn’t let go of her hold on his shirt. They both stood there a moment, searching each other’s face, quiet. Her heart was racing and her chest was as tight as a ball of knotted fishing line, but she fought to keep steady. Finally, Georgia leaned into him. He braced against her, holding her up.
    “Is this ok?” He whispered.
    She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. She tried to find words, but could only nod. He took another step toward her, forcing her back with him, still gripping the fabric of his button down shirt in her hands.
    “Look at me,” he said.
    Georgia opened her eyes and met the piercing glare of green. She fought to keep their gaze, despite the burning sensation it caused in her bones.
    “Do ye want me tae kiss ye again?”
    Georgia stayed with her lips just inches from his, parted in wait, and frozen in shock. No one had touched her like this in so long. She hadn’t wanted anyone to. So many men crossed her path, many handsome, many charming, but none gave her the butterflies like Garrett did. None of them could make a smile break on her face just by smirking at her.
    “Georgia?”
    She smiled. “Yes.”
    His lips drew close enough to graze her chin. He reached his fingers further into her dark curls. “Would ye like me tae kiss ye again?”
    She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
    He grazed his lips against hers. “Would ye like me tae do more than kiss ye, Georgia?”
    She inhaled sharply as one of his hands found her waist. He pushed her back slowly, her thigh rubbing along the table ledge. She was wordless, because the truth was, ‘yes.’ She desperately wanted to say, ‘Yes.’
    He stopped a moment and watched her face, waiting. She swallowed again, and nodded.
    He grabbed her around the waist, lifting her backside up onto the long, wooden table. He pushed his legs between her knees and gripped her hair in his hand, tugging her head back gently.
    Her mouth opened to him. “Oh my god.”
    He kissed her then, and her whole body melted against him. His hand held at her waist, his mouth testing and teasing hers. The marrow in her bones was singing. She could barely breathe as he pressed his body against hers.
    “For fuck’s sake, I’ve never done anythin like this before.”
    Georgia smiled at him. “Me neither.”
    “Nae? Good. Don’t feel so bad, then.”
    He kissed her again, yanking her toward the edge of the table so their bodies were pressed to one another. She could feel the pressure of him between her legs, and it drew helpless whimpers from deep in her throat.
    He stopped at the sound of them, his stern gaze growing darker with each passing moment. “If ye keep makin those noises, I dinnae know what I’ll do.”
    Georgia took a shallow breath, her nose against his. “I can’t help it.”
    This was happening, she thought. This moment, these sensations – of being touched and held - they were real, and they were overwhelming. Yet, beneath the shock of sudden intimacy was something stronger. Georgia wanted him to keep going in a way words couldn’t have expressed with all the languages in the world – and she didn’t even know his last name.
    He kissed her again, and the touch shifted. He squeezed her backside and her hips, letting the kisses break as he touched his lips to her face, breathing her in. Then he kissed her jaw, her neck, hooking his hands under her knees to wrap her legs around him. She almost cried out from the sensation of his solid form pressing between her legs with such intention. Still, the last thing in the world she wanted was for him to stop.
    He pressed his nose into her hair, breathing over her ear. She shivered in response, clutching the fabric of his shirt in her hands.
    “Tell me ye want me.”
    She opened