A Silent Voice Kiss Novels & Stories

"The gentlest touch can undo years of cruelty." KIVA "May I kiss you?" The words settled into the silence of the hall and I stood with them for a moment, not entirely certain I had heard correctly, not entirely certain my own ears could be trusted in a room this loud with my heart this loud and everything around me pressing in from every direction. My lips parted. Nothing came out.

I tried to speak, but my voice caught, a ragged whisper. His hand slid up, fingers brushing the line of my jaw. My pulse hammered against his palm, a drumbeat in a silent hall. He tilted my head slightly, his eyes never leaving mine, a silent question hanging in the charged air. He answered without words. His lips found mine with a ferocity that was at once violent and tender, a claim and a comfort wrapped into one sudden, crushing kiss.

she whispered. “I don’t either,” Henry replied, voice cracking. They stood facing each other, two broken hearts bound by the same ghost. Outside, the last ray of sunlight faded, leaving the room in twilight. And in that twilight, a new silence settled between them, one heavier, deeper, and more intimate than ever before. The silence between two hearts. Elena suddenly remember how she dead!

The quiet squelching was muffled by the hammering of the water off the shower floor. Bellamy’s movements slowed as he placed Thea’s legs back down before pulling her up for a kiss. “Let me feed you baby,” He murmured against her lips. Thea grinned against his lips before deepening their kiss, drinking in his essence, savouring the taste of him.

“Didn’t you say to meet you on the rooftop?” His mouth curved. “I thought this might be more thrilling.” The noise from the party still drifted through the wall. “Isn’t this room a little too close?” I whispered. Silas leaned in until his lips almost touched mine. “Then you’d better keep your voice down, babe.” He lifted me easily, my thighs locking around his waist, before his mouth found mine. The kiss was eager and hot, sliding lower until his lips brushed my collarbone. A soft moan slipped out before I could stop it.

she whispered, her voice thick with a need that went far beyond the kitchen, "I need inspiration for the amuse-bouche." A slow, genuine smile, devoid of its former predatory edge, touched Silas's lips. He leaned down, brushing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was startlingly soft, a silent renegotiation of their contract. "Consider it summoned, Chef," he breathed against her lips, before vanishing, leaving behind the scent of ozone, passion, and the lingering warmth of something that felt dangerously like the beginning. Ava leaned back against the cold steel, trembling, utterly spent, and utterly claimed by a fire far more potent than any Michelin star.

Like it was grounding me, holding me in place. The music was still playing softly. Nothing loud. It was just enough to fill the silence so it didn’t feel empty. And we stayed like that. No rush. No pressure. Just existing in that moment, letting time pass. Then I heard his voice. Soft, Close. “Can I kiss you?” he asked. For a second, I froze. I wasn’t sure if I heard him right, my brain catching up late. So I pretended I didn’t. “Come again?” I said quietly.

I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath in the stillness, “What are you doing?” He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he cupped my cheeks with both hands, and leaned in, his lips claimed mine, silencing my questions. The kiss was an inferno, igniting within me a passion that devoured all coherent thought. I was lost in its intensity, my mind dissolving into nothingness.

“Then why haven’t you confirmed our attendance?” He didn’t answer, and I could picture his patient silence—the kind that irritated her most. Then, without warning, Viva’s voice changed—closer, more deliberate. “Well,” she said softly, “maybe this will convince you to focus.” And then I heard it—the sound of a kiss. Quick, loud, and showy. My heart sank before my mind could process it. I didn’t mean to look their way, but as I stepped around the corner, there they were.

For a second, neither of us breathed. When he spoke again, his voice was rough. “You drive me insane.” “Good,” I whispered, pulse hammering. “Then we’re even.” And then he kissed me. It wasn’t gentle it was desperate. The kind of kiss born from too much silence, too many unsaid things. I felt every word he couldn’t say in the press of his lips, the tremor in his breath, the way his hands cupped my face like I was something fragile and fierce all at once.