Page 85 of The Unraveling

He lifts his own hand and wraps it around my wrist, and for a moment, I don’t know what he’s going to do.

He takes my hand and places my palm on his jawline.

Air escapes my throat at the strangeness, the badness of this. So much different from our night in the hotel room as strangers.

I put the slightest bit of pressure on him and he leans down toward me.

I’m so close I can count the specks of hazel in his tourmaline eyes.

Then his lips are on mine.

The familiarity sends an electric shock through me so intense I don’t know if I can stand it. It feels exactly like the night we met. When I knew him as Max. Like a month hasn’t gone by.

I press my tongue against his lips, and then I taste his tongue on mine. And then we are kissing with an intensity and hunger I’ve never quite known before.

His hand is on my waist, his other now on my neck, my fingers are in his hair, his five-o’clock shadow is scraping against the softness of my raw, clean face. His lips are on my neck, my nails are in his flesh.

He shies away from my fingernails and I know instantly that it’s because he doesn’t want to be caught with marks on him.

He did the same thing the first time.

This lights me further for some reason, and I pull back, biting his chest just hard enough for him to feel that I’m not leaving marks on him.

Alistair then pushes me gently off of him, still keeping his hands on me, still looking at me like he wants to devour me in one bite.

“I should go,” he says.

I nod urgently. “Yes, of course,” I say. “I don’t know what—”

“Don’t,” he says.

I’m not sure what he means. Does he mean Don’t apologize, it was me, too, or does he mean Don’t say another word, I need to start pretending this never happened?

I stand up, my legs as stable as bamboo in a heavy breeze.

He looks unbalanced, too, running a hand through his hair as he turns in a circle and then says, “My coat?”

“Oh, sorry.” I go to the closet and pull it out for him. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for dinner—thank you for everything, really.”

“Yes, of course, and congratulations again.”

God, this is so awkward. I am not looking forward to the night of embarrassment ahead of me. And tomorrow—what if it’s worse than embarrassment? What if I get fired?

Oh my god, I’ve ruined everything.

I keep it together. I just need to wait until he’s out of the apartment.

He gets in the elevator and presses the button for the lobby.

“Have a good night,” I say.

He nods.

The doors begin to slowly close, and I feel that I am only a few seconds from breaking down completely.

---