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“You’re perfect,” he rebuts.
“I’m cold.”
“Perfectandcold,” he agrees. “How does it feel?”
I let my feet settle into the icy cold grass, feeling like pins pushed deep into the balls of my heels. Something deep inside me settles. My lungs expand more freely, and my heart flutters in peace.
“Home.” I smile to myself. “It feels like home.”
His heat hits me before I feel his touch. The soft brush of his thumb against the freckles on my cheeks. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Even with my eyes closed, sight shut off to the intention in his gaze, I know he’s going to kiss me. I can sense it. I canfeelit. The warmth of his body engulfing mine. The heat of his breath skating across my face.
I’m too scared to open my eyes.
I’m scared to know I’m right.
Or to maybe find I’m wrong.
Both realities paralyze me with fear.
A thread of space sits between our lips, and I know in my heart, Iwanthim to kiss me. I crave the touch of his wanting, his lips against mine. I want his mouth to close over mine, and I lust for his tongue to push inside.
I want to feel Brooksloveme, and the knot in my stomach tightens with the knowledge that I can’t let him. I hate myself but wish I did it a little bit harder. I wish I loathed myself enough to let it happen.
His lips touch mine,finally,the briefest of tastes before I find it deep within me to shove him back.
“I’m seeing someone.”
He looks murderous, his eyes darkened with betrayal.
“Here in Glasgow,” I add uselessly.
“What?” he pants.
I stay silent, knowing he heard me just fine.
“How long?”
“A month,” I answer defensively, avoiding the contempt in his stare.
“Call him,” he demands. “Endit.”
“What?” I splutter.
“End it. You wouldn’t be here with me if you were serious about him, so end it.” There’s a desperation in his tone. A plea spiked with unwarranted power.
“I’m not going to end my relationship because you demand I do so.”
He stifles a growl of annoyance that simmers in this throat, begging to be let free, the sound vibrating heavily and making it ten times more intimidating.
“Why are you here?” he challenges. “With me.”
“To catch up with a friend,” I offer pitifully.
“Afriend.” His head nods up and down in disbelief.
I lean down, picking up my boots, my moment of freedom lost.
