Page 35

“Well, let me see if I can… jog your memory?” he says, his tone smooth, low, hypnotic.
He leans in toward me, and without even thinking, I mirror his movement, as though drawn forward by a magnetic pull. Our faceshover mere inches apart. The warming scent of sandalwood wraps around me – comforting and addictive all at once, the kind of scent that makes me want to get closer and never let go.
“We were at the bar,” he says, his voice deep and sultry, barely more than a seductive whisper. “And you were holding my hand.”
He turns his palm up on the table between us.
I place my hand in his, a jolt of energy coursing through me as his fingers wrap around mine, as though they belong together.
“Sort of like that,” he murmurs, his lips curving into the most devastating smile.
I bite my lip to stop myself from doing something ridiculous, like climbing across this fucking table in the middle of a Monday afternoon.
“It was getting late. You said you needed some air, so we stepped outside for a bit. After a while, you said you wanted to go home. So we got in a taxi, and I hoped you were sober enough to tell the driver your address.”
I let out a soft laugh, dropping my head with a groan. I cannot believe how drunk I must have been to have no recollection of anything he’s saying, but on the plus side, if I had done something embarrassing, he certainly isn’t letting it show.
My heart hammers against my ribs. His hand is still wrapped around mine, his lips so near that I can count the tiny creases on them.
“The car pulled up outside your place…” He trails off and suddenly, the not-knowing is infuriating.
I’m almost certain nothing happened, but I can’t be absolutely sure.
I would have remembered that, wouldn’t I? Or at least, my body would have?
“Then what?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
He watches me, searching my eyes as though trying to decide if I actually can’t remember or if I’m just playing along.
A slow smirk comes across his face. “Then…” he continues slowly, gently rubbing my hand in his, every motion sending goosebumps across my skin. “I walked you to your door…”
He pauses for a moment.
“You got your keys out of your bag…” he says. “And then you dropped them.”
I burst out laughing, yanking my hand away to hide my face. “Oh my God, seriously?”
He smiles, but takes my hand again, this time holding it with both of his. His touch is steady and deliberate, and my heart might actually leap out of my chest if he keeps looking at me like that.
“And as you picked them up…” he continues. “I leaned in… and did something… kind of like this,” he says, and closes the tiny space between us, his lips pressing ever so softly against mine.
My body feels as though a firework has just gone off inside me, and a coherent thought seems impossible to grasp. All I’m aware of is his lips, his scent, the heat of his hands on mine.
When he finally pulls back, my head is spinning.
What the fuck is happening?
Just a few hours ago, I was convinced I had made a fool of myself and had come up with a set of elaborate plans to avoid him. Now, I’m somehow kissing the man of my dreams on my lunch break?
“Wow,” I breathe.
He leans back, releasing my hand with a final, lingering touch. His tongue grazes his bottom lip in a way that should be illegal, and he gives me a smile that is so sexy and confident, I forget how to form thoughts.
“Did we…” I start to ask, but he quickly interrupts me.
“No. I said goodnight, made sure you got inside safe, and went back to the cab.”
I can feel his gaze on me for a moment, and I don’t know what to say. I glance at him and find his brow furrowed, his eyes filled with something that almost looks like hurt.