Nose Kisses Name Novels & Stories

“No matter what. I’d always come back.” And then, he pulled her in, and their lips met in a kiss that was unlike any they’d ever shared before. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or desire, not exactly. It was a kiss of survival, a kiss of gratitude, a kiss that said I’m here, you’re here, we made it. It was a kiss that tasted of smoke and tears and cold water, but it was also a kiss that tasted of love, of hope, of the future that was still waiting for them.

Dimas said firmly. Inside, I grumbled very annoyed, Dimas looks like possessive to his partner. "After school, you wait for me here. Let me come to your class, okay? Now, you go to class." "Yes-yes" I responded lazily. "Hey!" exclaimed Dimas. "What else?" I said, annoyed. "Morning kiss, where?" I smiled sweetly at Dimas. "What the hell." "I love you too!" said Dimas, who seemed like he had lost his mind.

I asked. “No,” he replied. His expression was hard to read. “After all, it’s only fair.” “I’m sorry for what happened to you,” I murmured. “Nobody deserves that.” “Ditto.” I didn’t want to ask him what he meant by that. The tip of our noses brushed together. Maybe it was his tragic past that spoke to me. Or maybe I tried to find logic in something completely illogical. “Eskimo kiss,” I said for no particular reason as our noses brushed again. He raised his eyebrow, question clear in his eyes, so I explained. “My girls and I call rubbing our noses together an eskimo kiss.” Because we love each other.

I swallowed loudly, self-disgust like heavy slime in my throat. But were we really "together" if I'd never kissed him? Unless you counted the chase around the quad at lunch when he'd caught me and embarrassed me by smooching me with his milk mustache mouth in front of everyone. Because if that counted, then my first kiss had been with Hottie Efoti, Ruthie's nickname for Isaac Efoti. He was Scotts Valley High School's beach babe times ten. I used to think that, too, until last week. And that felt like forever ago.

With our newborn son cradled in my other arm, our eyes locked, and the magnetic pull between us intensified. Feeling an irresistible urge, I leaned in, closing the gap between us. Our lips met in a gentle kiss, a sweet moment shared amid the joy of our growing family. However, our budding kiss was interrupted by the cries of our son, Nathaniel… Niel for short. "Come on, Niel!! I really want to give your mom a kiss! Don't be like this! Don't go against your own father!" I grumbled, looking at him as he continued to cry.

Before he can pull away, a tiny voice pipes up from the bed. "Kish!" We both freeze, then burst into laughter. Nora is sitting up, clapping her hands with a proud toothy grin. "Kish! Kish!" Hayden chuckles and leans over to press a loud, exaggerated kiss to my cheek. "Happy now, princess?" Nora squeals in delight. He straightens and grabs the towel from around his neck, gently draping it over my damp hair. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, letting him take care of me.

The scent of night jasmine clung to the air, thick and sweet, wrapping around us like a silent witness. We were still in the garden, the stars glinting above like curious eyes. His lips were warm on mine, commanding but unhurried, like he wanted me to feel every second of it. My first kiss. I had never imagined it would taste like this. Ripe, a little dangerous, and entirely him.

“Had?” I asked, detecting a hint of sadness in his tone and faraway gaze. Nox's handsome features pinched as he pushed away whatever thoughts he was thinking and ran his hand over his cheeks. In less than a second, he scooted up the headboard, leaned over, and kissed my nose. “Let’s hold off on some of that?”

"You're surprised right. Then forget it." I got rejected? Is this how Naira rejects someone. She looked straight ahead again. Just a fraction of a second the person did that, I reflexively pulled his neck and kissed. Just as he said. The difference is my goal is not my cheeks, let alone lips. A kiss on the forehead. *** ~ Naira Audzrilla ~ "Kiss Me." I said that knowing the person I was dealing with was Neron Wardana. I could say that I have a lot of faith in this person.

We stared at each other in the dim light—his eyes dark, searching, almost uncertain now that the glass and the camera were gone. I reached up. My fingers traced the line of his jaw, the stubble rough under my touch. He turned his head and kissed my palm. “I don’t even know your name,” I whispered. “Declan,” he said. Voice low, rough from hours of silence and groans. “Declan.” I tested it. It fit him—sharp, solid. “I’m Nora.” He nodded once. Then he kissed me.