Page 11 of Prelude To You

So I pulled away and placed my hand on her cheek as we both tried to catch our breaths. For the few seconds she held my gaze, her eyes flamed with desire, and I knew this kiss was far from over. The spell was cast, and I was forced to surrender.

I. Was. So. Fucked.

My arms instinctively went around her, and her hand slipped behind the nape of my neck. And I felt those delicate fingers ever-so-slightly move inside my collar, touching my skin.

She braced against my chest with her other hand, and it sent rivulets of desire through me. When my mouth found hers again, her lips were already parted, an invitation I willingly accepted.

Not only was I fucked, but my willpower to care was deteriorating faster than the speed of light.

She was supple and soft beneath my touch. I could feel myself getting harder, and there was no way she couldn’t feel it too. I was a normal man, so it was quite likely that the touch of a gorgeous woman would elicit some response. But this was different. Frighteningly so.

We were perfect together, and I simply never wanted to let go of her. I wanted to protect her from anything and everything that could cause her harm. Any threat to her wellbeing, I wanted to squash and destroy.

And here I was, being that very threat.

At that moment I realized that all of this was wrong, and very unfair to her. She didn’t deserve what was happening. When we broke away, her flushed cheeks reflected everything I felt.

The first thing was to make sure she was okay. Secondly, I had to figure out how to rid myself of this hopeless longing for her. Even if I’d only met her twenty minutes ago, I seemed to have missed her my entire life.

“Well, you’re quite the kisser,” I said, as if that would put everything in perspective. If only the board members could catch a glimpse of me now, fumbling around for the right words to say.

Her eyes were cast down as if she didn’t trust herself, her husky voice breaking. “I had excellent collaboration. So right back at you.”

And to cap it all off, she finished the quote I started, from a play by Christopher Marlowe. It was so amazing I almost laughed. She finished the goddamn prose. I didn’t know many people who were even familiar with Christopher Marlowe, much less anyone who could instantly pick up where I left off.

My groin stirred dangerously.

She wasn’t shy calling me on quotingDr. Faustus. I just stood there, willing to listen to her all night long. I owed her some apology for the kiss, but how do you apologize for something that would sustain your fantasies for life?

It was time for damage control. All I had to do was focus, bid her goodnight, and leave. “I have no idea why I just kissed you like that,” I offered. “No, I know why kissed you. It was just not my place.”

Naturally, her gorgeous features lit up in utter confusion. “Well, it’s not like you had to hold a knife to my throat.”

She did have a charming way of expressing herself, and I bit back a smile. Before I could say anything else, Rick blundered over to drop off the bag with her book inside. Which, curiously enough, the fool set at my feet instead of handing it to her.

When The Dancer and I were finally alone again, I wanted to ask her to have a drink with me, or go for a walk. But it wouldn’t have been a good idea because things had nowhere to go after that. How did I tell this lovely woman that my life didn’t allow for unplanned encounters, or that I’d never resented that fact as much as I did right now.

I wanted to look at her one last time, and when I cupped her face, it was impossible not to kiss her softly on the lips. “I have no idea where you came from,” I told her, “but you are simply exquisite. Take care. And enjoy the book.”

I handed her the bag. And then I walked away.

Fuck my life.

I stopped at the door and glanced back. My mind and body immediately rebelled at the growing distance between us. Our gazes met across the room, and then she did something that stole my breath. She lifted my handkerchief to her face and inhaled. I wavered on a razor’s edge as to whether I should rush back to her.

Then what?

Despite that spontaneous and very fevered kiss, I didn’t see her as the type of woman to settle for a few hours of fun. To be honest, she wasn’t the type of woman I saw myself just having a few hours of fun with. This was different.Shewas different.

The whole thing was treading in dangerous territory. This was a woman who, once made yours, would be difficult to let go. Perhaps impossible. And it was that last thought that surprised me. It weirded me out, actually. I’d never given sex with a woman more thought than that; the two of us getting some pleasure out of it and then moving on.

My self-control never slipped, and I was confident that I harbored no weaknesses. But tonight it slipped, and if ever I found a weakness, The Dancer was it. So with the only wisp of restraint I had left, I forced myself out the door.

The last thing I expected, leaving her behind, was for it to feel as distressing as it did.

On the drive home, I relived every moment of our conversation, and that sensational kiss. I almost turned back. I owed her an explanation as to why we weren’t a good idea, and I longed to tell her she was the most incredible woman I’d ever met.

Regret consumed me, because she didn’t deserve someone like me, acting on a whim. All I could do was hope that I’dmisjudged her character, and she was a carefree woman who wouldn’t give any of it a second thought.

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