Naleighna Kai
Southern
Comfort
Story Note
My first Cuddle Party was an exhilarating
experience. I held onto an article in the
Chicago Red Eye for a year before I got up
the courage to attend. Safe, non-sexual
touch. People who weren’t family. No other
books that I’ve read covered this event and
with the valuable input of fellow authors
Lisa Watson and J. D. Mason, I thought I
would share how two people could become
deeply connected even when sex wasn’t on
the table.
Something about him sent a delicious shiver of anticipation
up Joy’s spine. That shiver did a little curtsy at the base of her
neck, before ending in a tingle between her thighs. The moment
his intense gaze locked with hers, any misgivings she’d felt about
being in this place dissipated.
Her lips parted of their own accord, as if to speak, but no sound
would come. The Welcome Circle, where all the rules were laid
out for the total strangers embarking on an unforgettable journey,
was ending.
Ali,” he said, both snatching her attention away from one of
the hosts and startling her at the same time. The smooth baritone
sound was as sultry as his appearance, and that was saying
something.
Joy had watched people disperse into couples, groups, or even
individuals, but somehow, she’d been oblivious to Ali moving
across the room and now being mere inches away. The man was
stunningly handsome, had piercing brown eyes, and dark silky
hair with a small shock of silver right at the widow’s peak. His
olive skin had been kissed by the sun, lips were the most delectable
she’d ever laid eyes on. She, along with several others, couldn’t
help but stare.
She blinked, trying to clear her thoughts and inhaled the clean,
cool scent of him. So many vibrations swirled about Ali that she
had a hard time choosing one to hold onto.
“Joy,” she replied, extending her hand to him.
“Permission to touch you?”
She hesitated. Oh shoot. I’ve forgotten already.” Cuddle Party
Rule … you must ask permission and receive a verbal “Yes” before
you touch anyone.
Complying with the rules meant that every touch, no matter
how small, required consent. Her pulse raced as if she’d run a mile
at top speed, and everything within Joy screamed that if asked,
she’d give this man an absolute, “Hell yes.”
“Yes,” she said in a breathy whisper. “You may touch me.”
Ali moved in a little closer. Slowly, he took her small hand in
his. She imagined the feel of his chest against her face, the muscles