Crayvin
Her eyes gloss over as she studies me, her arms dropping to her sides. "And why is that?"
Slowly, I lift my head and lock eyes with her. "Why do you think?"
She blinks at me, clearly stunned by my answer.
Or disgusted, I can't tell.
"Crayvin," she says in a soft, quiet tone. She then repeats my words after I left the bar, "We can't."
I scoot closer and cup her face between my palms, and our foreheads touch. Her breathing matches mine; hot and rough.
"I know we can't, but that doesn't change what I want. What I am feeling."
She gulps. "And what are you feeling?"
On impulse, I move my mouth to hers and kiss her, sending my heated breaths into her mouth, answering her question without actually having to say any words. I have never been too good at expressing my feelings ve
