Page 4 of Magic or Madness

“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, redirecting my attention back to Bryce.

“I said, what looks good?” He repeats, and I realize I haven’t touched my menu.

“Oh, I’m not sure. Actually, I need to run to the little girls' room, excuse me.” I shock myself, the words leaving my mouth before I even thought about it for an extra second.

I break my hands apart from Bryce, who couldn’t care less as he pulls out his phone, mindlessly scrolling before I’ve even taken a step away from the table.

Now that I’m up, my belly is on fire with butterflies, and anxiousness fills my chest.

What if I’m being a weirdo? Maybe he wasn’t staring at me or showing me where he was going with a subtle motion. I’m a lunatic – following a stranger to the fucking bathrooms in a public place – that’s all I can think of to rationalize what I’m doing.

All the self-doubt flies out of me when I round the corner and see him leaning against the wall. He’s so tall, undoubtedly over six feet, and I feel tiny as I muster up the confidence to approach him.

I play it cool, standing a few feet away from him but leaning on the same wall, looking up into his dark brown eyes.

“That your boyfriend?” He clears his throat, his deep voice sending a shudder through me as he closes the gap between us.

“Uh, yeah. He’s my boyfriend,” I say quietly, noticing how his eyes never leave mine as I speak.

“What a shame. He clearly has no idea what to do with a woman like you.”

I’mspeechless.

I don’t even know what that means, let alone what to say. Is he flirting or stating something he seems to believe is the obvious? Do I exude an energy that makes it seem like I don’t belong with Bryce? So many questions swirl around my brain, but my body is on fire, and I feel tingly all over, like I could crumble at the slightest touch.

This mystery man is fucking gorgeous, almost something straight from a movie screen, and he’s saying things that are weirdly turning me on, yet I don’t have an ounce of fear inside me.

Normally, I’d run in the opposite direction from an encounter like this, but I’m firmly in place right now. The allure ofhimkeeping me here.

“And you do?” I ask, leveling the playing field, tossing the ball in his court.

“I’d wreck you, Bambi.” He lazily runs his fingers through his curls, and that slight move sends heat flooding through me.

“Bambi?”

He finally breaks his gaze from my eyes, looking me up and down slowly. It’s as if I’m on display for him, and strangely, I’ve never felt more beautiful than when his eyes are on me.

“You should get back before he wonders where you went,” he whispers, as if he doesn’t want to say the words aloud.

“I don’t care what he wonders,” I say firmly, crossing my arms and taking one step closer to him.

Whatever is happening right now, I can’t walk away from it. There’s something magnetic about him that’s keeping me in this hallway, inches away from him.

“Can I kiss you? Just once. I need to know what you taste like,” he breathes, placing a hand on my cheek, almost daring me to look into his eyes.

The breath has been stolen from my lungs, as I’m left to wonder if I’m dreaming. This kind of thing only happens in my head, those times where sleep refuses to come and I create fake scenarios to lull me under. That has to be what this is, a very realistic version of my imagination conjuring up the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, and proving that it’d take dumb luck for him to be interested.

I should run in the opposite direction, tell the entire restaurant about the creepy dude begging to kiss me in the dark hallway, or politely decline and return to the table where my boyfriend is waiting for me. Instead, something snaps inside me as darkness takes over all control, and I don’t answer him with words. I raise the stakes, wrapping my hands around his neck and never breaking eye contact.

“Oh,Bambi,” he groans, pulling me by the hips until our bodies are touching.

“Kiss me,” I whisper, and he doesn’t hesitate.

His lips crash into mine as his hands rake through my hair. When I part my lips, he slips his tongue into my mouth, and tips my head back slightly while pressing his hardness against my thigh.

I moan against his lips, and his fist releases my hair, but the same hand is wrapping around my throat, pushing me against the wall.

This kiss feels like it's lasted a lifetime, and I’m so into this that I forget he’snotmy boyfriend. I don’t even know his fucking name, yet here we are, making out like horny teenagers, or as if we’ve known each other for years.

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