She’s entirely too fucking gorgeous.
She crooks a single finger my way, and I move toward her like she’s pulling me with a string.
Four inches separate us as I press my body against the wall in front of hers.
“What about now? Is your brain all fuzzy now?” she asks softly.
I swallow as I stare at her lips. “Fucking crickets.”
Because I’m entirely blank.
There’s a moment when neither of us speaks—when our gazes hold as if we can already taste the desire between us.
Gemma tilts her head the other way and shifts on her feet, a quiet huff of amusement coming from her when she straightens. “I thought for sure this might get you to make a move,” she eventually jokes, though her voice is hoarse.
I love the cute look on her face. “And here I thought you were taking me to dinner first.”
Gemma chuckles and steps back, leaving me yearning for her displaced warmth.
She twists the shower knob off and grabs her towel, still smiling my way. “Dinner,” she says as she wraps her towel around her body. “Is that what you want?”
I step back under my own shower. “Most people just want a fuck under the shower head and an autograph after,” I say.
Her smile widens, delight dancing in those bright eyes. “What does Bonnie want?”
I huff, gaze casting to the ground for a beat.What I want…“What I want doesn’t usually matter,” I tell her. “I don’t get to be selfish anymore. When I’m selfish… people get hurt.”
I get hurt.
My heart aches at the vulnerable confession. I don’t know what it is about her. We hardly spoke in high school. She’s essentially a stranger, yet it feels like we’re picking up the pieces to a puzzle we never finished.
I laugh nervously, almost hating myself for what I said. “I went dark, didn’t I?”
If she only knew how dark it is behind my eyes, she’d run.
She’d put up a boundary between us. Refuse me instead of playing into whatever this is. She’s too good for me. One kiss… One touch… I’m not a good enough person to handle anyone like her, to give her what she deserves.
Quick fucks in the dark.
Coming on a masked stranger’s tongue…
That’s the kind of meaningless affair I’m destined for—something that will continue to hurt me just to satisfy my need for sabotage.
I’m drowning in my thoughts, so far beneath the surface that I don’t notice Gemma coming toward me until her hand presses to my cheek, and she tilts my face so that I’m looking up at her.
“You can be selfish with me,” she whispers.
The words make my shoulders drop, my exhale jagged.
Kiss her.
You don’t have to go all in but just kiss her.
One kiss isn’t going to ruin you.
God, I hate these conflicting thoughts.
I can’t even manage a response.
