Her eyes flicked up to mine, and she swallowed hard. Her throat, smooth and long, moved with the motion, and all I could think of was how the skin there would taste on mytongue.
We stared at one another for a moment, eyes locked, mouths tightly closed, holding back words we desperately wanted each other tohear.
I leaned forward and slipped my hand through the hair that fell on her shoulder, cupping my palm around the side of her throat. I couldn't help myself—I had no control over the damn thing—it just touched where it wanted, where it needed to be. Her pulse pounded under my fingertips, fast andhard.
Her skin was silky and smooth, delicate beneath the rough palms of my hand. I knew I should let her go. I should let go of her throat and walk the fuck out of her life. Just let go and tell her how sorry Iwas.
But I wasn’t sorry. And I sure as hell didn’t think I could let go now that her skin was touchingmine.
My gaze dropped to her hands as she balled them into white-knuckled fists. Was she restraining herself? From what, I could only guess. Maybe she wanted to punch me. Or maybe she was holding back from laying her hands against my skin and pulling mein.
“Dylan,” shewhispered.
The sound of my name on her lips sent heat surging through my body. I gently dipped my thumb into the scoop of her collarbone and slowly drew circles over her skin. Her breath shuddered, and her hands shot up and grasped hard around myforearm.
Her voice broke when she repeated my name. "Dylan."
I froze, fighting against every muscle and tendon in my body that wanted nothing more than to cover her mouth with mine. Her breaths quickened, her chest rising and falling faster as she tightened her grip on myarm.
"Stop. Please." Her soft plea was a bullet to the heart. "We can't dothis."
I nodded, looking away, closing my eyes to it all. “I know,” I murmured, leaning my forehead against hers softly. “But fuck, Callie. You make it hard for me to want to stayfaithful.”
She fisted her hands against the sleeves of my shirt, then pulled away and slipped out of the booth. “Come on, Dylan,” she whispered, pulling me up into a standing position. “Let’s get your drunk ass home before you say something else you mightregret.”
