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We sink into comforting silence – Yasmin isn’t rushing me, which is nice – as my mind glides over the past twelve months to the moment we shared or almost shared.
Hot tempting pleasure swirls in my belly, as I remember how close we came.
I was right at the back of the yard, waiting for Yasmin to return so we could take a picture by the fairy lights. Everyone else had gone into the house because of the rain, but Yasmin was determined to get this picture, so there I was, the light raindrops pattering against my hair and sticking it to my head.
My parents had organized the party, inviting a bunch of family friends, as well as Yasmin and a couple of girls from my high school. I’d later learn Yasmin had completely spaced about the picture and had accidentally left me out there, which she apologized for over and over until I laughingly told her it was okay.
And it was. Because if she hadn’t left me there, it never would’ve happened.
Bennet striding across the lawn toward me as I waited.
When I saw him, I bit my lip, warning myself to beat down my childish crush, the crush I’d had on him for as long as I could remember.
He was always around the house when I was growing up, a Navy SEAL, the same as my dad, spending more and more time with him once they’d both retired and started their own businesses… a security firm for Bennet, and the construction business for my dad.
I’d often dream about his ice blue eyes staring at me, seeing me like I meant something to him.
I’d imagined him wrapping those huge arms around me and hugging me close, stroking his hand through my hair, before leaning down and kissing me passionately.
It was impossible. I knew that. I was underage and, even if I wasn’t, there was no way he’d look twice at me.
“What are you doing out here in the rain, Lorelei?” he asked, his voice gruff, even more so than usual.
“Waiting for Yasmin,” I told him. “We’re supposed to take a picture in front of the fairy lights.”
The lights were behind me, lighting up his face, making his eyes glimmer with even more intensity. His hair shining in the slanting rain.
“You would make a good picture right now.”
I was surprised to hear his voice was heavy with alcohol, heavier than I’d ever heard it. He wasn’t drunk. But there was a husky quality to it that told me he’d had a few beers, but he seemed completely in control as he closed the distance between us, stopping just short of me.
Close enough to kiss.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he growled. His fingers twitched at his sides and his jaw pulsing, as though he was struggling to hold himself back. “Really, really fucking beautiful.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a whimpering unsure noise. Looking past him, I looked into the house, expecting to find someone laughing in the doorway.
This had to be some sort of birthday prank, a way to get my hopes up. I even thought Yasmin might’ve arranged it, but that didn’t make any sense. She’d never do anything so cruel to me.
He took another step forward, his body brushing against mine. Tingles danced up and down my legs, teased my clit and my sex. My nipples felt raw and my mouth dry and all I could do was stare up at him, stare, and wait… but for what?
“It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time,” he snarled, leaning down until he was gazing right into my eyes.
I could taste the beer on his breath as he panted heavily, and I knew he wouldn’t be doing this if he was sober.
But I didn’t care.
So what if he was forty-one and I was only eighteen?
I’d had a crush on him for as long as I could remember.
My wildest dreams were coming true.
“Which is a good thing, seeing as you’ve only just turned eighteen. But damn… the way your body looks in that dress. The way you’re staring at me right now…”
“How am I staring?” I whispered, hardly able to get the words out, my pounding heartbeat threatening to stifle me.
“Like you want this to happen. Like you need it to happen.”
He leaned down and I was ready, so freaking ready for what we were about to do.
I parted my lips, my eyelids falling shut, as I prepared to sink into the kiss.
But then I heard heavy footsteps, receding, squelching in the rainy mud. Opening my eyes, I saw Bennets retreating back, his fists clenched at his sides, shaking his head as he marched down the side path, out the gate, leaving me and the party.
I wrote the letter as a way to try and get my overactive mind to settle down, describing how much the near kiss had meant to me so I could finally let it go. But I know I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about him, no matter how many letters I write.
