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The Chris I knew was too proud to apologize. I don't know how to handle this Chris next to me.
Everything was easier when he was insufferable. It was easier to hate him then, but now I don't know how I feel anymore.
His eyes meet mine again, and he whispers, “I'm so sorry.”
I don't know what to do with myself. I should probably say something, but I don't know what to say. It's all so much and so unexpected.
He's watching me with the fondest expression, making my heart skip a few beats. If fourteen-year-old Gianna could see this, she would be over the moon.
“I will do anything to correct my wrongs. Anything.” He sounds so determined. “Just don't tell me to stay away from you, please.”
“Why?” I question.
His eyes flicker to my lips and back to my eyes in a second. It's so fast that if I had blinked, I would have missed it.
“Because I can't.”
To say I'm stunned would be an understatement. I swallow hard, my heart leaping and galloping wildly in my chest at his words and his awe-filled eyes.
The way he stares hungrily at me has my mouth running dry. His eyes darken with pure lust. What's going on?
“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.
It's like an electric shock has gone through me. I became aware that we had stopped talking and were only staring at each other. I give a subtle nod. I haven't been able to forget our first kiss.
He shifts closer, his hands reaching up to caress my jaw lightly. He leans in and our lips meet.
His lips are tender against mine. My hand rises up on its own to hold onto his shoulder. My heart soars; sparks travel down my spine.
He pulls back for a second and angles my head, connecting our mouths more firmly. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, my hands sliding into the dark hair, which is softer than I even imagined.
His tongue darts out to tease along the seam of my lips, and I open it to allow him entrance. He tastes like coffee. The feeling of our tongues sliding together, tentative at first, has me barely suppressing a whimper.
I should push him away, but the gaping hole of warmth beckons me to its depth.
His hands tighten around my waist, drawing me close. A needy sound escapes my lips as the kiss becomes heated.
The back of his knuckles slide down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They brush down the curve of my waist before reaching up across my ribs to the side of my breasts.
My nipples tighten beneath my dress. Heat is rapidly spreading through my stomach, pulsing between my legs. I fist my hand, willing my body to calm down.
His other hand reaches up to move my hair from my shoulder, baring the skin of my neck. “Gianna,” he whispers.
The feel of his breath against the sensitive skin of my neck has goosebumps trailing down my arms. My mind is hazy, and my brain has gone foggy.
His mouth moves to my jaw, then down to my neck until he reaches the sensitive hollow by my clavicle. I let out a high-pitched moan, earning a satisfied hum from him.
I can feel his erection press against my legs.
He's hard for me. I made him hard.
My alarm rings, snapping me back to reality, and I realize the gravity of where this is leading. Before I can completely give in to the temptation, I push at his chest.
He stills and looks at me. Whatever he sees in my eyes makes his clear from their lust-filled state, and he withdraws away from me.
I straighten my dress and stare at the floor, avoiding his burning gaze. I feel his eyes on my fidgeting hands, and he stands.
He suddenly clears his throat, making me look up at him. His hair is a mess, and his lips are swollen. He has made no move to correct his appearance. “I should go,” he says quietly.
