THE CONVERSATION WITH Nero dampens the rest of my morning, and I'm nearly late for work because of it. Sitting at my desk, my mind refuses to concentrate on my screen, Illustrator open and waiting, my latest logo project abandoned. Ten cents to whoever can guess what I'm so busy thinking about. Or who.
Nero's words shook me to the core, and whatever happy mood Caleb left me with has dissipated into thin air, replaced with a nagging, crushing sense of sadness and unease. Every part of me hurts, but it's an emotional kind of pain.
Every memory that I've been suppressing the last couple of days comes back in waves, and suddenly, Nero's lips are all over mine again, his hands on my hips, his nose against mine, his face brushing roughly against my neck, addictive and heady.
Don't give me that. I know it's wrong, thinking of Nero like this. I know that Caleb is right, that he is funny and honest and kind and caring and everything that Nero is not, but it's not so easy to push Nero aside. I wish it was, but it is not.
In an effort to restore some sense of balance to the universe, I let myself remember last night, remember Caleb, remember the two of us, lost and tangled and very, very needy. A small smile finds its way to my lips when I recall his hands and fingers and mouth... oh his mouth. I can't help the grin that lights up my stricken face when I remember the things that mouth of his did. Mm.
And even though it had been a while, did I really need to run the whole marathon? I feel a small giggle bubble from my mouth when I try counting the number of times I... oh god. One, two, three, four... Definitely won myself a couple of hat tricks.
The way he sighed my name, like it was the most incredible word, and the way he looked at me, like I meant the world to him, in those moments at least, causes a familiar tug low in my chest.
My secret smile turns sour when I try to convince myself that that's what I need, not the sordid, illicit mess that comes with a certain dangerous, dark-haired criminal.
As if the universe is trying to give me a sign, my phone buzzes, and I can't help the face-splitting grin that comes when I spot the message on the screen.
Tried explaining to your dad and brother why I was late for work...Will pay you back later
Smiling in spite of myself, I text:
Can't concentrate at work b/c of you.
Thanks a lot
His reply is almost instant, and I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh, my face going red.
Daniel just asked me
why I smell like your shampoo.
Yeah right.
Liar.
Fine, but he's onto us I swear.
You owe me big.
Oh yeah? What's your price?
I smile as I wait, the world being steadily lifted from my shoulders.
Let me cook you dinner tonight?
My place at 7.
The thought makes me shiver from anticipation, but I don't tell him that.
Idk, sounds steep.
What are my other options?
I almost forgot how much fun flirting like this is.
YOU ARE READING
But Too Well
Romance"His gaze holds mine like a spell, like a dangerous, delirious kind of magic. I swallow, my heart racing, my head filling with panic and confusion and anticipation and an inexplicable, unidentifiable hunger. . ." When Rosalyn Clark moves into her ne...
