LEILA
.
.
He leaned closer, his head dipping down towards mine, his eyes heavy-lidded, filled with an expression that made my breath catch in my throat.
His hand started to move, slowly, deliberately, tracing a path down my side, towards my thigh.
I knew where his fingers were going. Towards the place where his hands had been before, back in that different, terrifying encounter.
A wave of fear, of shyness, washed over me, this wasn’t what I came for. I wasn’t ready for this.
“Wait,” I blurted out, the word a desperate, rushed sound.
My mind scrambled for an excuse, any excuse. “I'm on my period.” The words tumbled out, awkward and raw.
I braced myself, waiting for his reaction. Waiting for the anger and disappointment. Waiting for him to turn cold, to dismiss me, to be upset
