I close the distance between us and brush it away from his face.
We’re close.
His eyes trail down to my lips, and mine to his.
Dylan’s tongue slides along the seam before biting his lower lip in a way that makes me fly away on a heart-shaped balloon.
Together, we inch closer. Our faces are merely an inch apart. His breath feels hot on my face. My pulse is like a jackhammer.
Then. It happens.
We kiss. It’s a sweet kiss, but it makes the fire that’s been simmering inside me since my hand landed on his thigh ignite.
My hand finds the back of his head, and I run my fingers through his beautiful hair.
We part, and I look into his eyes. “Let me get your number.”
“Yeah…” he says in a daze.
We exchange numbers, and Dylan says, “I’m done at 11 tonight. I don’t know if that’s too late, but—”
“It’s not. How about we grab a drink? There’s a spot calledSky Loungethat is nice.”
“I like that bar,” Dylan says.
“Perfect.”
His smile is radiant. Then, he approaches and kisses me again. This time with more passion. We savor each other—our tongues dancing as I wrap my arms around his waist.
For the first time since Todd left, the future doesn’t feel like a closed door.
He pulls back, his lips curled into a devilish smirk. “See you tonight, Peter.”
“I can’t wait.”
I help him into his car, and he drives to his shift.
You’ll have to buy me drinks another time. I have a date tonight.
Angela: I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN. See? I think you’re the one who owes me drinks! ;)
I think you’re right. Thank you.
Angela:Love you!
Love you, too.
I look at my phone and see the picture of Todd and me on our honeymoon on my homescreen.
Time to replace this.
And I do.
CHAPTER 01: MILOS
“Why do I need to do this again?” I ask, shoving my cold fingers deeper into the pockets of my leather jacket as I trail after my sister across the wharf. “It’s cold. I’m hungry, and I was just in a flow for that commission piece for the new club in the Red Light District. I kinda need to finish it.”
“Oh please,” Nika replies, giving my arm a firm tug to make me move faster over the cobblestones dusted with a fine layer of snow which crunches softly under our feet. “Don’t pretend you’re some starving creative when we both know you’re currently Amsterdam’s most wanted and most emotionally unavailable neon boy.”
