Page 119 of Love Me Stalk Me
To argue.
But she doesn’t.
She just looks at me, breathing uneven, eyes searching mine. And then, somehow, we’re closer. I don't know who moves first. I don't know if she leans into me or if I lean into her. All I know is that suddenly, her breath fans against my lips, laced with the faint taste of coffee, her body radiating a quiet heat that sinks straight into me.
And then, without thinking—without overanalyzing?—
I kiss her.
It's gentle at first.
Just a whisper of a kiss.
Then she leans into it. Her lips are soft, tasting faintly of cherry lip balm, and suddenly, it's not gentle anymore. Her hands grip my shirt, fingers bunching the cotton fabric. Mine slide to her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the curve of her body beneath my palms. She lets out a soft sound, muffled against my mouth, a quiet whimper that vibrates against my lips.
And fuck, I want more.
I deepen the kiss, tilting her back slightly.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, her body melting against mine.
Then suddenly she pulls back fast. Her chest rises and falls, her breath uneven, heaving witheach rapid breath.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry," she says, rushing to stand up.
"Don't," I say, barely above a whisper, trying to process the fact that she’s not in my arms anymore.
She shakes her head. "No, this is—this is so inappropriate. I have a boyfriend. At least I think I do. And I—I'm just taking advantage of how nice you're being to me. I'm vulnerable and—shit."
She starts apologizing again.
Rushing through the words, not looking at me. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips slightly swollen from our kiss.
Then, before I can stop her—she bolts.
She grabs her keys, the metal jingling in her hand, and runs out of my apartment, leaving her thermos on the counter.
I watch from the window as she gets into her car. I watch as she tries and fails to pull out of her parallel spot three separate times. Each attempt accompanied by the screech of tires against pavement. I watch her finally drive off. Her taillights receding into the tangle of traffic.
And then I pull up my phone, tracking her GPS.
She goes straight home.
And I sit there, leaning back, pressing my fingers to my lips, thinking about that fucking kiss. The taste of her still lingers.
Thinking about the way she leaned into it before she ran.
And knowing that, next time?
She might not run at all.
NOW CHATTING WITH CALEB
Pretty Girl
i have to confess something
Caleb
