Page 57 of Broken Dream

Hell, she may tell me to leave when I tell her what I want.

She’ll be well within her rights, and it would be the best thing for both of us.

I finish my sandwich, swallowing the last bite. I wipe the crumbs off my lips with my napkin and down the last of my wine.

Her glass of wine is still half-full, sandwich half-eaten, but her soup bowl is empty, as is mine.

“Would you like another sandwich?” she asks.

I shake my head, never taking my gaze from hers.

“More wine? Soup?” she asks, her voice softer this time.

I shake my head, again, never taking my eyes from hers.

Her eyes are deep pools of mystery, unreadable and endless. They pull me in. Just staring into them feels like falling, like slipping into a place where nothing is certain, and everything is possible.

Fuck.

What a metaphor for my life right now.

Where nothing is certain…

But for the first time in a long time…where everything is possible.

“No thank you,” I say.

She nods, rises, grabs my plate and soup bowl, and takes them to the counter.

I follow her, stand behind her, only inches separating us.

My dick is hard and pulsating inside my jeans.

“Angie,” I say, my voice gruff.

She turns with a light gasp, faces me.

“Yes?” she says, her voice cracking.

I don’t reply.

I simply crush my mouth to hers.

Chapter Seventeen

Angie

His mouth is on mine before I can react. His kiss is intense, desperate, and starving. It’s a hunger I feel myself, throbbing in every cell of my body. Yet it scares me. Not in a creepy, aggressive way, but in an overwhelming passion that threatens to consume me.

I gasp into his mouth. My knees weaken, but he steadies me with his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

He tastes like wine and sadness and a hidden fire that he’s only just letting out. It’s intoxicating. And terrifying.

I clutch on to his shirt, the fabric crumpling beneath my grip. A strange fluttering blooms in my stomach, fueled by his sudden intensity and the taste of his lips against mine.

I recognize his kiss, but this time it’s different.

It’s not only sadness I sense but anger.