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One that has already touched me once before.
I squeeze my eyelids shut as if that’ll allow me to vanish. Newsflash: It doesn’t.
“There you are,” Sam declares, sounding slightly out of breath. What did he do, chase me down? “I almost didn’t catch you with you sprinting away so fast.”
“I’m not sprinting,” I protest, despite the fact that I basically was. I cross my arms over my chest. I comprehend this as the defensive measure it is, but I can’t seem to stop myself. My hackles are up. “Although I am on my way out.”
This doesn’t faze him.
“Why hurry off? Why don’t you mingle with me, get to know some of my friends?” he asks as if we have a past together or something. As if there’s something more between us than there is. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from glowering at him.
It infuriates me that he can be as cool as a cucumber when the last interaction I had with him had me going up in flames.
“I don’t think that would be wise.” I try to storm off, but he manages to keep up with me. So much for me outpacing him while maintaining my dignity. He secures my elbow, and even though he didn’t grip it hard, I yank it from his grasp. He immediately releases me.
“Mind telling me why?”
“Because I heard what you said.”
“What I said?” He looks bewildered. “What I said when?”
“Never mind.” This is pointless. Pointless and stupid. Ridiculous.
“No, please.” He reaches out again, and I throw him a death glare before he can make contact. He draws to an abrupt halt. “I don’t understand.”
I take a page out of my first coach’s book and fist my hands on my hips.
“I overheard your little convo with Harrison Walcott. The one about the freak who is so damn tall she apparently stands out in a crowd. The woman who deserves to be ostracized. The one about me.”
His brows crease. “I never called you a freak or said you should be ostracized.”
“Might as well have.”
“But that’s...” He huffs as his words tail away. “That’s not fair. We were discussing you because I think you’re gorgeous and fascinating, Amanda. You do stand out, and while part of that is your height, it’s not the only reason. It’s not even the main reason.”
“But I’m taller than you.”
“So?”
“So, men don’t like that.” Ask me how I know. “And besides, you two were being derisive. You were laughing at me.”
“Harrison was laughing atme. He’s been a buddy of mine for ages and knows I typically date petite pixie-like women, not statuesque beauties like you.”
He takes my hand in his, brushes the back of his knuckles along the length of my bare arm. I feel a shiver that shakes me from head to foot, making my nipples bead. Damn my body’s uncontrollable reaction to him.
“You remember our kiss from the other night?” he asks, and I nod. How could I forget? Yet now I can see it in a less-mortifying light. I believed he was judging me, but what if that’s the wrong conclusion to jump to? “Well, I’d like a repeat.”
Now he’s skimming his palms along both my arms. I’m staring into his face, but I feel him moving his hands slowly up and down without stopping.
Why am I fighting this again?
I close my eyes in consent, and as he brings his lips to mine, I can feel the scruff that runs along his lower jaw rasping against my chin. It’s not an unpleasant rasp, either. It’s the kind of abrading that scrapes just enough to bring all my awareness to him. He pulls me in closer so that the solidness of his pecks pushes up against my breasts, and I gasp, yearning for more.
His dark irises turn molten, just like the space between my thighs, and it takes someone clearing their throat behind us requesting to get by before I realize we’re standing in a very public hallway.
“Come home with me,” he whispers in my ear, and I’m stunned that a part of me wants to say yes. But the smarter part of me is stronger and resists.
“Don’t know if that’s a solid plan. We barely know each other.”
