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“What?”
“You…you are…” his voice trailed off. “Damnit, you are everywhere. All I can think about is you, and it is frustrating.”
He closed the remaining distance between us. There was barely but a whisker of space between us. His hand moved to the side of my face. My breath hitched in my throat when his skin contacted mine.
“You are consuming me.”
Then he did something I was not expecting at all. He closed the distance between us and captured my lips in his.
All consuming. Hot. Demanding.
That’s how I could describe the kiss. These are all the same things I would use to describe Nathaniel. His kiss was scorching, almost like a branding of some kind.
At first, I stood perfectly still, completely immobile. But his lips continued to coax mine.
He was teasing, taunting, and willing me to move with his rhythmic dance. And so, I did. I moved my lips with a push and pull that could only be felt.
And I felt him. I thought of him right down to the very depths of my soul.
My nerves fired away as the electricity passed from his body to mine and then back again. The atmosphere erupted into a million and one little sparks of fireworks all around us.
My back hit the brick wall behind me, and I gasped.
He took this chance to plunge his tongue into my mouth and kiss me senseless until my entire brain turned to mush.
One moment, this man was devouring me; the next, I felt the cold Chicago air hit me, and his warmth left my body.
My eyes fluttered open in a complete daze of lust and passion. The cloud was hazy, but I saw a stoic-looking Nathaniel through it.
It then hit me what we had just done. My whole heart plummeted to the floor.
“Nate…” I started, but the man turned on his heel and walked down the sidewalk without glancing back.
I was left standing at the front of that bar, confused, heated, and felt like I had just committed one of the most significant crimes in history.
8
AMELIA
I had not seen nor heard from the man who kissed me impetuously and left me on the street. It was infuriating how he had just crossed that line and walked away.
No explanation. No apology.
Just one big smooch on the lips and then gone.
But what annoyed me more was that his kiss had left me wanting, no, yearning for more.
In all my years of life, I had never been kissed like that. I had kissed three men my entire life; he was the third.
He had burned me with his kiss. The kind of burn that ended up warming you from the inside out.
I wanted more of it. It was addictive. Like a harmless drug that had me hooked, I felt that if I didn’t get my next fix, I would implode.
I had made great use of my fingers the past few days. But even as I would find myself teetering to the edge, I never saw the happy ending because I was…stuck. I was stuck with him circling in my mind.
His eyes, his calloused touch, his scent.
It was like I had committed it all to memory. I had dedicated him to memory and didn’t know how to feel.
