I'd love to share a kiss from my Lharmell trilogy. I've worked very hard on the kisses in these books. But I don't think I should talk too much about them as the powers that be might get cranky. Instead I'll share favourite kisses from books and films.
This first one is from The Secret of Dragonhome by John Peel, a YA fantasy from 1999. I remembered this kiss from when I read the book ten years ago, and it's the reason I tracked it down to read it again. Lord Sander sees people's future when he touches them; Melayne is the heroine:
He stripped off both gloves, and started to reach for her. Then he hesitated, obviously having second thoughts. There was a flicker of worry in his eyes. Melayne didn't let him back out--she gripped both his hands in her own.
Lord Sander gasped slightly, and his eyes went unfocused, as if he were staring at something a great distance away ... [He] jerked his hands free, and his eyes focused on her again. He looked shaken by his emotions, and his self control was badly damaged. Something had caused him great turmoil.
"What did you see?" She begged, scared.
"This," he replied softly. Then he gripped both of her shoulders, leaned in and kissed her ... She had no idea why he was doing this. The touch of his lips on hers, the strong hands on her shoulders, the scent of him--all made her giddy with emotion.
This next one is from Playing Beatie Bow by Ruth Park, my favourite Australian YA. It's a timeslip novel; Abby is from our time, and has been transported back to Victorian times where Judah is from:
"Ah, Abby love, don't go! Not to the grievous world you've described. Stay here with us."
His arms were around her. Her hat fell off into the water and floated away. His cheek rubbed against hers, and she put up her hand and stroked his face.
"Why, Abby. Dinna weep, you must not, what's there to weep about on this bright day?"
But she couldn't stop. A huge shameful gulping hiccup came out of her. Judah grinned.
"Don't laugh at me, damn you!" cried Abigail.
"Why, Abby--" he said, as though astonished. "My little one, my Abby."
Now, although Abigail had no regular boyfriend, she had had her share of kisses ... But this was quite different. Her body went off on its own, yielded and clung and moulded itself to Judah's, her head whirled, and so exquisite a melting sensation arose in her middle she thought she was going to die.
Death by kissing. What a way to go!
After Vivian is dumped by a terrified Aiden in Blood and Chocolate after she reveals she's a werewolf, she foolishly tries to make him jealous by kissing Gabriel, her pack leader. Bad boys on motorbikes are so cliche, but Klaus makes it work oh-so-well for Gabriel.
Her breath caught in her throat when she spotted Aiden. He was staring right at her, mouth parted.
She ripped her gaze away and climbed off the bike. What do I do? What do I do? Against all common sense, she stepped up on the footrest and pressed her lips to Gabriel's. Oh bloody moon, I'm an idiot, she thought. It was meant to be a brief kiss to make Aiden jealous, over before Gabriel realised what was happening. She didn't expect the swiftness with which he encircled her waist with his arm. Suddenly she found herself half across the gas tank and crushed against his chesk, her feet off the ground, metal digging into her right knee. His practiced tongue parted her lips while she clung to him to stop herself falling. She felt the heat of him searing her through his shirt and smelled his musky scent growing rich and suggestive. Then he let her go, and she slid to the ground and staggered backward.
"His eyes smoldered beneath half-closed lids. "Don't use me," he growled. Then he revved his engine, echoing the threat.
My favourite on-screen kiss is in The English Patient. It's one of my favourite movies of all time, and if you haven't seen it, DO. Ralph Fiennes is blindingly handsome (in the scenes when he's not, you know, burned to a crisp) and Kristen Scott Thomas is the epitome of a graceful, cultured, and ever so slightly sad young woman. She's married (swoon!) to an idiot husband who just doesn't get her but Ralph Fiennes does (swoon!) and falls in love with her while she recites stories from Herodotus (double swoon!) They have some absolutely smoking scenes together, beautiful and tragic at the same time. Then World War II comes along and messes absolutely everything up, as wars are wont to do.
And then there's the kiss that never happened. The not-kiss that launched a thousand fan-fics. The kiss that I have been waiting TWENTY YEARS for, one which Return to Labyrinth volume IV better deliver or I shall die a thousand deaths. Apparently test audiences objected to a kiss between Sarah and Jareth in Labyrinth's ballroom scene as Jennifer Connelly was fifteen at the time. PRUDES. Isn't there a special clause when it comes to demigods of glam-rock drugging and pashing teenage girls? No?? WTF!
An even bigger WTF: Test audiences objected to the kiss but not THESE PANTS:
Happy kissing day to all! *mwah*