His eyes watched my every movement, and those perfect lips turned up into a sly smile and in that moment, I knew he was aware of what he was doing to me.
Coherent thoughts escaped me as my palms started to sweat and tingle with the undeniable urge to reach out to him and pull him closer.
I wanted to feel his body against mine like our lives depended on it. Feel the heat pulsating from him like a raging fire and smell that intoxicating scent of brown sugar that wafted off him.
“Hi,” I breathed and immediately chided myself for such an idiotic response.
His eyes stayed locked on me and caught my unease. They were practically shimmering with suppressed laughter, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe. “I take it you’ve never done this before?” he asked like we were discussing the weather.
No. I never thought I would reach that level of desperation in my entire life. But there I was, standing in front of a man that defined the word sexy, fumbling around like a lost cause.
Because I was. “Is it that obvious?” I feigned a smile and gulped, faintly noticing that he still wasn’t breathing.
A genuine smile slowly spread across his mouth and I nearly forgot what I was so nervous about. “Relax. I promise I won’t bite.”
Somehow I knew, the feel of his teeth against my flesh would be the most intense and invigorating feeling of my mundane life. And though I believed the words he spoke, in that moment, I knew I wanted him to break that promise.
© Sarah Doughty