My Heart Was Always His.
- Reads 105
- Votes 9
- Parts 8
Ongoing30m
Last published Mon, Aug 29, 2016
"What are you so afraid of Rosie?" Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear he moves his face closer to mine. His breath closes over my skin causing me to get goosebumps.
With his free hand he traces my face and when his fingers reach my chin he lifts my head to make me look at him.
"You." I look away as quick as the words come out of my mouth. But he guides my face back to making me look at him One more time.
"Why? Why are you so afraid of me!?" The worried expression in his eyes making me hate myself for feeling this way.
"Because I can't handle being hurt by you all over again." I Walk away leaving him more confused than before.
I'm not letting his angelic looks and talented charms get to me again. I'm not 16 anymore. And to hell with falling for him one more time.
Rosie, a lonely 20 year old trying to move on from her past and make a future. But what happens when her past literally bumps into her?
Can she resist his charms? Or will she fall into his arms again that turned out to be a nightmare instead of a beautiful dream all girls wish for?
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She didn't reply and I felt her finger move across my skin, lower, and almost all the way down my lower back. A shiver coursed through my body, strangely pleasant, and I felt her finger stop. "Your tattoos are beautiful," she said softly. Too close. She was too close. My pulse was hammering and I could feel her cool breath against my skin when she spoke, and my body was warm from having felt her. I couldn't reply. My breathing was light and shaken. I wanted to just turn around and pull her against me, or rather put her against a wall, so I could kiss her and feel her more properly against me. If she touched me again, I wasn't sure that I could keep myself from doing just that. "I'm going to take a shower," I said suddenly in an attempt to escape. She didn't stop me, so I took that opportunity to walk away. When I reached the bathroom, I took a deep breath to steady myself as well as my pulse. Closing the door behind me, I ran a hand through my hair. She truly was a nightmare. A bad boy's worst nightmare was a girl that made him want to be a good one.
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