I stood there, my hands rendered useless, while my lips, surprisingly in accord with my body, remained frozen, unable to synchronize with his fervent kiss.
What was unfolding before me?
Deep down, I knew it was unwise to reciprocate his kiss, but the overwhelming desire eclipsed the strength required to resist it. Gradually, my lips began to respond, moving in tandem with his, and my shoulders relaxed under his touch. In an instant, I found myself surrendering to the intoxicating familiarity that enveloped us. But like a bolt of lightning, realization struck, jolting me back to reality.
With a breathless pause, I broke the kiss, my gaze fixed upon him, attempting to regain composure. Tightening the towel around my chest, I guarded against any unintended exposure. Unable to meet his gaze, I shifted my focus downward, directing my attention towards my feet, concealing the blush that warmed my cheeks from his intense scrutiny.
"Who are you?" he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of confusion and curiosity.
The question caught me off guard. Swiftly, I turned away, veiling my surprise.
"What do you mean, Mr. Johnson?" I managed, my eyes widening in astonishment.
"How do you interpret that statement, Miss Santiago? Or should I say Miss Clarke?" he countered.
His revelation caused my eyes to bulge in disbelief. "I-I don't understand what you're talking about," I stammered, pivoting to face him, my weariness from standing on my aching feet starting to take its toll. "My feet are throbbing with pain," I interjected, attempting to divert the conversation. His gaze flickered momentarily to my feet before returning to meet my eyes. "I need something to wear."
He stared at me for a moment before retrieving a sweat suit from his suitcase. He handed it to me, and I mumbled my thanks before retreating back to the bathroom. Slipping into the baggy clothes, which made me appear diminutive, I grabbed a plastic bag from one of the drawers to store my dirty garments. Stepping out of the bathroom, my damp hair haphazardly bundled into a messy bun, I placed the bag beside the bed.
A tantalizing aroma of coffee and freshly baked cookies wafted into my nostrils, eliciting a hunger pang in my stomach. With a sigh, I descended the staircase that led to the dining area, where I found Daniel seated at the table, engrossed in his phone.
"It seems you're hungry," he remarked, glancing up from his device. "Let's have breakfast before we continue our journey to the city."
I nodded, taking a seat across from him. "Thank you for last night," I expressed, pouring myself a cup of coffee to avoid meeting his gaze.
"No problem," he replied, his eyes seemingly penetrating my very soul. I immediately regretted sitting directly in front of him.
Midway through the meal, he had yet to touch the food before him. Raising my head to steal a glance at him, I noticed him sitting back nonchalantly, furrowing his brows as he peered intently at me.
"Why do you look exactly like her without makeup?" he inquired, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.
Oh, shit!
I had completely forgotten about the makeup, and without it, I resembled my former self, with the dark locks.
"Um," I cleared my throat, taking a sip of coffee to steady myself. Relax, he won't find out. "Who are you referring to, Mr. Johnson?"
"Someone dear to my heart," he whispered, almost lost in his own thoughts.
"If you mean Paloma, I often get told that we bear a resemblance," I forced a smile. "People tend to mistake us for each other."
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RomanceRewriting!!! "You drive me to madness, Raquel," he whispered, his lips grazing against my neck. Despite the betrayal and anger within me, my body betrayed me as I found myself leaning in for more, a momentary weakness consuming me. "...I can't bear...