Page 6 of Desperate to Touch

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Skip, trip, thump. He doesn’t stop staring as I take him in. Like he’s waiting for something. My heart responds but I don’t. I’m as still as can be in my seat, feeling the heat the car has stopped providing even without it being on anymore. It engulfs me as Seth’s stare penetrates through everything.

He doesn’t stand there for long, his large hands clenched into fists at his sides. They unclench and his right smooths down the black pressed suit pants he’s wearing. Irritation grows in his expression, but I’m in no rush to move.

I hate how he looks at me, but I love that he’s looking at me at all.

I reach out to the passenger seat without breaking Seth’s gaze before he can open the door himself. He’s hiding from me. Behind those blue eyes, I see nothing anymore. Maybe a hint of lust and a wall of hate, but not him. I don’t see him anymore and it fucking hurts. It’s a jagged rip to my heart.

Before I step out, I reach behind me for my purse; inside it is the notebook. Only the first one though. I didn’t bring them all.

As I stand toe to toe with him, swinging the thin black strap of my blush satchel over my shoulder and feeling the gust of wind send a chill down my spine, I close the car door without looking back. The thudding click of it shutting is all I can hear. Even the woods that surround us are silent.

It’s hard to believe Seth’s right in front of me. The wave of heat from his hard body towering over me is addictive. He’s so close that his scent fills my lungs and it brings memory after memory as I stand breathless in front of him. I could touch him; I know I could.

He could touch me if he wanted to as well. Neither of us moves though.

“I told you not to make me come for you.” His deep voice is a low baritone, a threat not so veiled laying within the syllables.

What was left of the light from the sun is waning and the moon doesn’t provide a damn thing tonight. The shadows come quicker than they have any other night. My God, does the darkness make Seth look even more tempting. Fear is ever present, the unknowing and lack of control driving my anxiety to pump my unbalanced heart harder.

I pay it all no mind. Seth is here in front of me.

“Did you hear me?” he asks, although it’s not a question. It’s more a statement of his discontent.

“I’m sure that’s not what you meant in that note, Seth,” I finally speak, my voice more even than I dreamed it would be. How it comes out so calm and collected, I have no idea.

Goosebumps line my arms as another gust of wind pushes at my back, gathering my hair and causing it to tumble over my shoulders. I cross my arms as my nipples pebble.

“I’m here,” I tell him. As if stating the obvious was needed.

The anger and edge of threat are absent, and the heat in Seth’s eyes roars when he glances down my body and then back to my own wandering gaze.

Time passes, too much of it, before I break the silence and break our caught stares to say, “I didn’t make you come far, did I?”

Seth

She’s here. Laura’s in my grasp. And she’s completely unaffected. I can’t fucking take it. It’s a black hole that whirls around me. Nothingness, yet I’m falling. Hard and fast.

This gut-wrenching concoction of desire and anger, betrayal and longing… it’s too much. I can’t focus on any one aspect of this moment. Control feels like a concept I can’t grasp as the blood rushing in my ears drowns out everything else.

Closing my eyes, I inhale long and deep. She is the woman I used to love. When I was someone else. Nothing more. I try to convince myself of that truth.

Her words linger, confirming the statement.

I didn’t make you come far, did I?

Her comment pisses me off more and more with every step I take toward the house. The anger laces with desire. Her smart mouth has always gotten me hard.

I gently place my splayed hand on her back, to lead her into my house, hiding my eagerness.

Inside. I need to get her inside.

I can barely feel her, but I don’t miss how her eyes close at my touch. All it takes is a gentle push and Laura walks fast enough so that I barely have contact with her.

The soft satin of her red dress caresses my fingertips. I know she’s cold in the thin material. She chose this dress, tight around her ass and low cut, for a reason. Everything she does is for a reason.

Every step closer to the door, I gather more and more composure. I remember who I am today and not what we had before.


Tags: W. Winters, Willow Winters Romance