Page 56 of Born to Make You Smile

“You know,” he said, scratching his temple. “I really enjoyed your poetry.”

My stomach dropped. He’d read the poems. Oh my God. He definitely knew I wrote poems about him. Really personal poems.

I couldn't help but cringe. “You read them?”

“I did. Every single one.” He shifted in his seat, a guilt-ridden expression on his face, then put his glass on the table next to mine. “I know I shouldn't have invaded your privacy, but I couldn't help myself.”

I wanted to hide. Lock myself in the bathroom and never come out.

“But tell me.” He leaned in closer, and my heart picked up. “What is the meaning of them?”

I swallowed nervously. “Meaning of them?”

“Well. Where do you get your ideas? What inspires you?”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the air pushing out of my lungs. My face went beet red as I tried to figure out the words to say. “My past. My hopes. My dreams.”

“I see,” he said, drawing the words out slowly. “There was one poem in particular that caught my attention. Perhaps you could read it aloud for me.”

I blinked, processing his words. “Which one?”

“Lust,” he stated, a fiery glimmer in his eyes.

My body shifted with discomfort.

Of all the poems to read for him. “I don’t know if I can—”

“Please. Read it, Grace.”

Not a request. A command.

God. I’d do anything he told me to if he continued to use that deep and growly voice. I’d eat the pages of the book if he ordered me to.

Inhaling a deep, steady breath, I opened the book and read my poem aloud.

Lust

He stands

So close

I’m timid

He’s bold

His breath

His mouth

His kiss

His touch

His heat invades me

Reckless

But safe

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