Maybe I have a mild case of Stockholm syndrome but I really don't want this to be the last time I get to be this close to him. So, I say the stupidest thing ever. “Fine, but you still owe me an explanation."
He flashes that addictive smile and I’m lost in it, completely, until his hand appears between us, reaching for my breast.
Gasping, I reach a hand to stop him but not before, with lithe fingers, he plucks the pencil and order pad from my uniform's shirt pocket. The backs of his fingers lightly brush the swell of my breast above my nipple. Goosebumps race across my skin and his smile widens even further.
Heat fills my cheeks.
This is absolutely insane.
He finishes writing on the pad then hands it back to me.
I scoff when I read, not a phone number, but an address.
Leaning in, taking the pad and pencil back and tucking it in my breast pocket, he whispers with his cheek pressed to mine. “Come over anytime. Alone. And don't tell anyone you saw me.”
Backing away I look him in the face trying to put a name to it. When I fail again, I ask, “Who the hell would I tell them I saw?"
He flashes that smile of his one last time, and I nearly lose my balance. Safe to say, I’ll always be a sucker for a nice smile. And his is the nicest I’ve ever seen. And oddly familiar.
Shaking myself free of the effortless spell his electric stare has cast on me, I open the door. "Follow me, Spaceman.”
