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I don’t know, but I don’t want to read too much into it right now. I can’t. I don’t want to ruin the day we had together. It was one of the best days of my life, really.
Nodding, Alex gets on his bike and starts it up, the loud engine making my pulse race.
“Come here,” he beckons, motioning me with his index finger.
Taking the few steps to close the distance between us, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me in for a stomach flipping, axis tilting kiss, that has my head spinning.
His lips were made for kissing.
“I’ll call you later,” he tells me, his lips brushing mine.
“Uh huh,” I manage to say with my thoughts still fragmented.
Letting me go, I take a stumbled step back, and he takes off, making certain that he doesn’t kick any gravel up at me.
As the sound of his bike fades, I feel the hypnotic connection he has on me loosen, and my brain starts to clear.
Smiling to myself, I head inside and flop down on the couch.
Alex is so much more than I thought. And I’m scared that I’m in danger of seeing him as more than just something new and exciting to get me to start living my life again.
I don’t want to. I can’t.
I don’t even know if I trust him. He’s off to work now, and I don’t know what he’s going to do. He could be one way with me and then go and flirt and pick up women while at work.
And I’m not going to be sneaky and try and catch him doing something shady or go to the bar every time he’s working to see if he’s behaving.
I want to be able to trust the person I’m with explicitly. And this pang I feel in my gut right now is proof that I don’t feel that way about Alex.
And I don’t know if I ever will.
Chapter 11
Blinking my eyes open to my dark room, I realize what woke me when the ringing of my phone pierces the silence of the night. Groaning, I cover my head with my pillow.
Who’s calling me? It has to be the middle of the night.
Patting around my bed blindly, I slide my hand under the pillow next to me, and finally find it.
Popping my left eye open, I squint at the bright screen, and see Alex’s name.
What? How is he calling me? I don’t think I ever gave him my number, or got his…
“Hello?” I answer groggily, my voice hoarse from sleep.
“Melanie,” he says smoothly, his whiskey voice flowing over me, almost lulling me back to sleep.
“How did you get my number?”
A low chuckle comes through my phone and I curl into my comforter a little more – loving the sound. “I took your phone last night when you were sleeping and added my number.”
“How nice of you,” I say, smiling into my blanket.
“I thought so.”
“What time is it?”
“After three.”
