Walking The Line | ✓

Chapter Twenty-five

There might be less than twelve feet between the elevator and my apartment door, but the trek was the longest of my life, with my stomach tossing, my muscles tightening, my heart pounding---Any indicator that signaled I was falling, you name it. I had them all.

After the elevator dropped us off at the seventh floor, we walked down the empty hallway side by side. Sneaking a peak at the German, for the third time, I noticed his expression hadn't changed. His face was pensive, as if he was deeply considering something. Sometimes I really wished I could crawl into his head so I could read what he was thinking. How could he look so cool when I was a bundle of nerves? It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair. At all.

Tearing my gaze away from him I gave myself a little pep talk. You can do this Van. You can share the company of a six-foot-five German-American man. Muscular, cool---all self control. Seven years older, who has the most enticing bedroom eyes and can kiss you into oblivion. I imagine him cornering me, his large body pressed into mine.

I was panting.

I checked if the German could hear my rapid breathing, he didn't seem to notice.

One.

Two. 

Three.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You got this.

Five steps to my door I opened my mouth to break the quiet when he clasped my hips, backing me up against the wall, his gaze flicking all over my face as if wanting to take in everything. As if he found all of it appealing and couldn't decide where to settle his attention. 

"In case there's still any doubt." He finally said, his face dipping close. His lips hovered over mine for a beat. I held my breath. "I like you."

I'd barely time to grasp his words when his mouth fully covered mine and all rational thought flew into last week. My hand rested against his jaw, anchoring him to me, as I tried to convey through the kiss all he made me feel.

He let out a sound between a groan and a growl, one of his hands dropping to my waist, pulling me closer to his imposing frame. The warmth of his body filtered through all the layers of clothing. His tongue teased at the seam of my lips and my mouth opened, moaning at the first contact of our tongues.

From one moment to the next, his mouth slanted over mine and the gentleness that had started the kiss was replaced by hunger. This deep wild hunger that could only result from months of self deprivation. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been kissed like this. I'd never been kissed like this.

When he finally tore his mouth from mine it was to rain kisses across my forehead, my temples, my cheeks. He paid close attention to the side of my neck, trailing hot kisses that had me struggling for breath.

Then his hands started their way up, mapping my body over the long heavy coat, until they cradled my face. His face lifted from my neck, eyes bright and dark with lust. My body shivered.

"I've wanted to do this with you since I saw you in this hallway in nothing but a T shirt." His rugged breathing fanned my cheeks.

My heart leaped inside my chest. He was talking about the night of the blowout. That had been almost three months ago. My mind struggled with the maths.

It had been the first time he'd closed a door on my face. It was nice to know the reason behind his rude behavior. Surely the last thing he wanted when he moved in was to get involved with the neighbour. I couldn't help but smile as my thoughts took me back to that night.