Page 32 of Through You
There is hardly any space between our lips. A small move on his part or mine could close the distance. He’s slightly taller so I stand on tiptoe and move in. Our breathing mingles. We’re looking into each other’s eyes, which project the unspoken emotions taking up room in the space between us.
I want to kiss him.
I’m startled by this admission. I didn’t mean to start something; my intention was purely to take control of the situation.
But his body, his scent, his breathing, his heat, and the desire radiating from his eyes, all these are limiting my ability to think rationally.
“Are you going to tease me all night?” he whispers against my lips.
“Maybe.”
He licks his lips. “Claudia.”
I get lost in his eyes for a brief second.
“Artemis . . .”
Before it’s too late and I end up giving into my desires, I use his confidence to my advantage and catch him by surprise when I free myself and push away.
“I should go.”
He strokes his beard, and doesn’t seem surprised by my actions.
“Running away won’t help. Some things are inevitable, Claudia.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Which things?”
“You and me.”
I ignore his answer.
“To be honest, it’s late and I do have to go,” I tell him.
“I’ll take you.”
I don’t know why his reply makes me laugh. His persistence is formidable.
“No thanks.”
“I won’t take a no for an answer,” he says. “After all, we’re both going to the same house.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to decline, only grabs my hand and drags me along. We come down from the VIP area and walk by the side of the bar where all the bartenders and the staff have gathered to chat. They quickly disperse when they see us coming.
It’s obvious from their faces that we were the subject of their conversation. Artemis looks directly at the one employee I suspect is in charge of the rest of the staff. “I’m leaving. You can reopen, or leave it closed. Check with Victor and let him decide.”
“Yes, sir. I hope you have a very nice evening.”
I smile and hold Artemis’s hand while tagging along. Once we’re outside, we walk to a dark-blue classic car. He’s not one to drive sports cars or anything extravagant; his taste is classy and elegant. He lets go of my hand to open the passenger’s door. The trip home is quiet and charged with tension. I discreetly take a few glances at the man next to me while he’s focused on the road. He has one hand on the wheel and the other on the shifter to switch gears. I can’t put into words how, but he looks so sexy when he’s driving.
“How’s university going?” I wasn’t expecting this question but I’m glad he’s the one breaking the silence.
“Good. I have one more year to go.”
“Are you still terrible at reading?”
I purse my lips, mortified. “I do my best.”
He’s grinning. And I realize that I’m short of breath.
