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I still don’t understand.
Why did he have to freak out and run away when it tasted so good?
It wasn’t me, right?
It’s not that people don’t find me attractive. I know, logically, that I’m relatively pretty, and guys have given me plenty of attention ever since I hit my main growth spurt.
But this is different.
No one has ever wanted me the way Shepherd Foster looked at me last night.
Fierce and desperate and entirely demanding.
Also, so familiar.
He wanted me with the same strength he unleashed on the ocean, and that’s weirdly compelling.
My heart drums wild whenever I think about it.
I didn’t plan this.
I came for otters and wound up being drawn to my boss like a moth to flame.
This isn’t me.
I’m not Miss Free Fall.
If I’m dating, I need a guy to wow me before any real attraction sets in.
I’m a third date girl for any sexy business.
After we’ve talked and connected and kissed a few times, then maybe. Or maybe I realize I’m too busy or too disinterested and I politely end it right there. My usual routine.
But this isn’t me.
I don’t recklessly throw myself at men without a basic human connection first.
Whatever we have, it’s definitely not that.
Shepherd and I don’t evenlikeeach other.
There’s just this sizzling animal magnetism I can’t deny.
A switch he flicked the second he hauled me out of the sea.
Even then, I was a goner, before the ill-fated massage and the kiss that plucked my heart out.
Holy hell, thekiss.
My whole body burns just remembering it.
The single most erotic moment of my existence, and we werestill fully clothed.
Briefly, I consider touching myself while it’s still dark and quiet and I’m covered up in my sleeping bag, but then I hear him moving around and I’m sure he’s awake.
Ugh.
He’ll know.
