The door’s behind her. I’m in front. We’re closer than we should be.
“You’ve only been dating for what, two weeks? What’s the hurry?”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t shrink.
Her eyes stay locked on mine, and now our breaths are mingling.
The want hits so hard it makes me clench my fists. What the hell am I doing?
Why is it that every time we’re alone, reason leaves the room?Control wrecks itself. And all I want is to hold her, kiss her, claim her. This isn’t me. But somehow, it feels exactly like me.
“Then…” her voice is soft, her lips trembling. My hand lifts without thinking, my finger grazes her mouth.
She sucks in a breath, and I swear I feel it in my spine. Her chest rises, draws my eyes straight to the curve of her breasts, barely held by the straps of her top.
I want to touch her.
