Six Months Ago
NATALIE
I was starting to think that this man could read my mind.
He moved to the beat of something inside me, something that I wasn’t used to people seeing, hearing, feeling.
It made my entire body pulsate, like a beacon that he was drawn to.
A moth to a flame, yet there wasn’t a bone inside me that wanted to let this die.
His hot breath fanned the curve of my neck as he dropped his head.
His lips flirted with my pulse point as he muttered, “Just checking that you’re real. ”
“You should check again,” I encouraged and then threw an arm up, wrapping it around his neck and holding his head there, letting him press open-mouthed kisses down my throat, leaving me panting.
“Oh, fuck.” His moan was guttural, coming from somewhere deep inside him, and it did things deep inside me, too. “Has anyone ever told you you’re perfect?”
All I did was hum in response, thinking about those words.
They made something twist inside me, a distinct turn from the road I’d been cruising down, thanks to a few drinks and the heat of Cam’s touch.
“Come with me?” he breathed, phrased like a demand I could refuse, if I wanted.
But I didn’t want to.
I wanted to go with him—anywhere.
And as he pulled me into the back hallway of the bar and pressed me up against the wall in a way that was both delicious and heart-stopping, I realized that was the problem, wasn’t it?
There wasn’t a bone in my body that wanted to let this moment die, but there were thoughts swirling in my brain that wondered if I should.
Because it had only been a few hours, a few drinks, a few words exchanged, and I knew.
I knew I was already at risk.