She didn’t know why her heart was hammering so hard in her chest, like a fucking train going 200 miles an hour down the track. But her lips met his and something inside her sparked back into life. It was a flicker of something she couldn’t put her finger on but wanted to, desperately, because this made sense. It didn’t feel like a drunk thing, or a lonely thing, it was natural and easy but made her skin tingle in the breeze too. Her grandmother warned her away from older men, said they were never looking for another wife, another kid, only a quick fumble for a thrill but Abi was the one getting a thrill.
Her fingers wrapped delicately around his shirt as he kissed her, sinking completely into the sparks and that weird feeling. She leant back a bit and looked into his eyes and down his handsome features, everything in low moonlight with the sound of waves.
“You… you’re good,” she said, a smirk at the corner of her lips. “Do it again?”
Abi leant back in and kissed him once more, her eyes sliding shut as her fingertips grazed his chest hair. This, she realised, was chemistry. Instant, uncommunicable, unspoken physical connection. And wasn’t it her fucking luck that he was behind the door in Cuba.