Kiss My Name Novels & Stories

Since my childhood, I had only one dream and I could never give up on it. “I did not tell your father about your relationship with her. I’m giving you the chance, Hayden. You are our hope.” He stroked my cheek. “Don't make us regret having you.” He gave me one final look and then started to walk out, leaving me frightened. Before he left, I shouted, “Then what’s her real name?” “Aurora. Aurora Jane Miller.” _____

I had to do this. So I swallowed my pride and my dignity and continue to kiss the one person I didn't expect to kiss. The Player of Preston High.

I repeat my question. Killian's friend reaches for one glass and brings the glass to his lips. " What's your name?" Killian asks. I'm taken by surprise as I stare at this strange, arrogant man. My name? He didn't just ask me my name. His left arm is spread on the couch as the other smokes his cigar, his eyes never for once straying away from my eyes. " Naomi." Killian nods and I don't miss the slight smirk that graced his lips for a mini second.

I mummer, hungry to taste this beauty. I watch her tongue dart out, moistening her bottom lip and without warning I find my lips caressing hers in a moment of thoughtless action. Fuck she tasted so fine. "What's your name gorgeous," I ask her again, breaking the kiss for a mere second. "Lisa" I sense the lie. I don't care. I could find out her name later. I crash my lips against hers again and her tongue sweeps into my mouth. My hands thread through her silky hair and I walk her backward into her room. Slamming the door shut with my heel.

I promised, going to the door. “One more thing,” he said, crossing the distance between us and taking me in his arms again. I knew his kiss was coming, but even then, I wasn't prepared for it. He took my breath away, stealing it for himself and making me forget that I had ever needed to breathe in the first place. My knees went weak, and my heart pounded in my chest as my body started to heat. I melted into him, relishing his kiss. This was the way to start a morning. “That's better than coffee,” I gasped when he let me go. He chuckled, obviously proud of himself.

I couldn't help it. “Thanks for the clothes. I should go to the front desk and go get my keys so I can give these back to Bastian as soon as possible.” He held out the pillow out to me. I nearly dropped it I was so awestruck. He grinned at me. “I don't think I caught your name.” “Charlotte,” I whispered, my voice cracking and coming out with a squeak. I blushed harder. “My name's Charlotte.” “It's nice to meet you, Charlotte.” He smiled wider and somehow got even more gorgeous. “I've always liked that name.”

I nod once and That is all he needs to proceed. He runs his thump over his forehead like he’s trying to dry sweat from his face. He reaches into his hoodie pocket and pulls out a small envelope. Old school. Just the way I like it. He slides it across the table and taps the on it once. I don’t open it. I just watch him. “She’s not Bianca,” he says. “Her real name is Lucia Sensori.” “I know that already” I say He lifts his eyes and brows together.. “But You don’t know what I am about to tell you”

Still no reply. I noticed the rose then - silver, shimmering, a Moonlight Kiss. My father's voice echoed: rare, delicate, a labor of love. I lifted one from the debris and held it to the girl. "Pretty?" She nodded, sniffling. "It's the most beautiful rose I've ever seen." "Her name is Moonlight Kiss," I said. "What's your name?" The old man's head snapped up, his gaze piercing mine, thoughtful, unnerving. "My name is Miley Doyole," the girl whispered.

And when he recovered, I had someone else return him home. A bitter regret gnawed at me. Why did I act so selflessly, yet remain anonymous? Had I known my kindness would ultimately lead to my demise, I would have ensured he knew. "Hey, Connor! It was me, Clara! I saved you!"

Sparse gray hair framed her gaunt, elderly face. When she saw Marigold and me walking hand in hand, with Daniel, now toddling along, her lifeless, dull eyes suddenly flared with astonishment. It was like a brief flicker of life in a dying flame. I smiled before saying, "Ms. Callaghan, I almost forgot to tell you—today marks 23 years since Mari and I met. Don't you think it's a wonderful day to celebrate?" "You… You…" Florence stammered, but no coherent words came out.