Page 46 of One Night

"I AM hurrying."

"You've been in there for almost ten minutes. What's taking so long?"

"I'm trying to find a shirt."

"Want me to help?"

"No!" I yell. If he comes in my bedroom, we'll be having sex before we can stop ourselves. That kiss left me with an aching need for more, a longing to be with him me again like we were that night. "Don't come in!"

"I will if you don't hurry up. You've got one minute."

"One minute? That's not enough time." I frantically search through my clothes. Coffee on Sunday. What do you wear for coffee on Sunday? It should be casual but not too casual. Maybe I should go with jeans instead of yoga pants.

"Thirty seconds," he says.

Shit. I rip my yoga pants off and try to find the right pair of jeans. I want them tight, but not too tight. Something that makes my butt look good.

"Time's up." He opens the door and sees me standing by my closet wearing only a pair of skimpy pink panties. "Shit," he mutters, his eyes drinking me in, his mouth slightly parted.

I swallow, unable to move. If I even attempt to, I'll end up running into his arms, kissing those perfect lips, pressing myself into that perfect body of his.

And so I stay where I'm at, the air heavy with heat, lust, desire.

"You should leave," I say, somehow managing to speak.

His neck moves as he swallows. "Yeah. I'll um...wait by the door."

I slowly nod, and watch as he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Exhaling the breath I was holding, I try to regain my composure. He saw me naked. He has before, but this was different. We weren't in the heat of passion, our bodies melded together. This was from a distance, and he looked at me, all of me, with a look so hot I could feel his desire. I still feel it, burning up the room, intensifying that aching need between my thighs.

I've got to get out of here before I do something I regret. If I'm serious about Dylan and seeing where this could go, we can't be having sex. It'll just confuse me and how I feel about him.

No longer caring which pair of jeans I wear, I grab the top one on the pile and yank them on, then quickly put on a bra since I wasn't wearing one and pull on a thin pink sweater. I wear a lot of pink. I'm a girly girl. It goes with my romantic side.

Hurrying to the bathroom, I put on some blush and mascara then brush out my hair and put it back in a ponytail.

"Okay, I'm ready," I say, meeting up with Dylan, who's standing by the front door, checking his phone.

He looks up and smiles, slipping his phone in his coat pocket. "You look nice."

"Thanks."

"Although you looked nice in the bedroom too. You could've just stayed like that."

He's got that heated look in his eyes again and it's taking everything in me not to give in to him.

"Yeah, that probably wouldn't be appropriate for a coffee shop," I say as I open the front door. "And by the way, next time I'll be locking my door. You shouldn't have barged in like that."

He catches me as I walk out the door, his arm going around my waist. "Are you mad that I did?" His eyes go to mine. Dark. Intense. Expressing how much he wants me. I want him too. So bad.

"No," I say, being completely honest.

"I didn't think so." He lets me go, but takes my hand as I lock the door.

As we hold hands, I'm reminded of that night, and how perfectly our hands fit together. They're still a perfect fit, making me think there really is some element of fate at work. A force that brought us together, knowing we're a perfect match. But does that really exist? It can't. There can't be a match for everyone. With all the people in the world, they'd never find each other.

"Do you usually take a long time to get ready?" Dylan asks as we're walking down the street. I assume he's going to the coffee shop on the corner.

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