Glass Half Full
“I always wondered something,” she continues when it’s clear I can’t speak. “That night, did you…Were you…Did you want to kiss me?”
I wanted to do more than kiss her. I wanted to breathe her in. I wanted to inhale her.
“It would have been a bad idea,” I manage to get out through my clenched jaw. She’s staring up at me through those damn eyelashes, and all I can think about is her mouth, her neck, that inch of her gorgeous bare shoulders I can see before they meet with the edge of her coat.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Everything grinds to a halt.
Shit, shit, shit.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” she repeats, “because I wasn’t ready for you to kiss me then, not like I am now.”
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