formidable of an opponent. I will crumble without him.
“Stop thinking and dance with me,” Russ commands as he lifts a remote from the serving cart and presses a button. A soft piano ballad fills the air around us and despite the smooth, relaxing strains of the chords, my chest tightens.
He takes my hand and leads me closer to the open space near the windows, maneuvering me in a semi-circle so that I’m facing him. His hand glides lightly over my cheek before he takes my hand in his and pulls me to his broad, lean chest. His other hand rests lightly against my lower back. My eyes slip shut and I fight hard not to melt into him. He moves us with ease in small circles all around the makeshift dance floor. If the entire 30 days are going to be like this, I should really reconsider the entire deal. If this is what I have to contend with, I’ll be confessing my love within two weeks and that’s simply not an option. It would ruin everything.
“Relax,” he whispers in that deep voice of his.
“I can’t,” I whisper back.
Russ stops just as the song comes to an end and looks down at me. “You have to trust me, Linds. It’s just me. You. Us. Our chat room just got bigger. And three dimensional.” His thumb and forefinger grasp my chin and tilt my head further back so that I’m looking up into those pools of intense green. “And a lot more intimate.”
My heart speeds. Butterflies take flight by the masses. My resolve weakens and in this moment I want nothing more than to kiss the man who has kept me so enamored all these years. My breathing becomes choppy and shallow. Russ’s pupils dilate and take on that passionate look from before. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, but I can’t help but wonder if he feels how I feel on the inside.
I lift my hand and place it over his heart only to confirm that he too has a racing heart. I lick my lips and do nothing to control myself. I want him so badly. The tingling between my thighs is raging, begging for attention that only a man can pacify. It feels like ten years of pent up feelings are culminating inside of me. I mean, how many women would be able to refuse him in this scenario, this man that I’ve known for a decade but only just met? Am I justified in what I feel, in wanting him, or am I just acting like some sex-deprived doe-eyed slut? Thoughts of Trey and his question about me being “easy” pop into my mind but I squash them right away. Fuck this! I’m doing something for me, taking something that I’ve wanted for a very long time. I deserve it.
“Tell me what you want and it’s yours,” he breathes huskily.
“I want… I want you. I want all of you,” I reply, feeling desperate and driven by my desire for him.
Ten years of desire that is culminating right now. Right where I stand.
Russ seems nearly pained by my confession. His hands cup my face so lightly it’s as if he’s afraid to hurt me. “Say it again,” he whispers, his eyes shut.
“I want you. I always have.”
Russ opens his eyes and gives me one tentative look. It’s that look that screams I’m about to kiss you so stop me now if you don’t want this!
I do nothing to stop him. I don’t want to stop him. My brain may be screaming “Run, fool, run!” but my body is practically begging “Please.”
Russ bends his head and brushes his soft, full lips against mine feather light; it only stokes the fire burning within me. I lean further into him, silently asking for more, for as much as he’ll give, for all of him. He leads me, deepening the kiss to proportions that I’ve never experienced. His lips are soft but firm against mine. His tongue slips over my lips and I open for him. He wastes no time sliding his tongue painfully slowly into my mouth, caressing mine with his. My fingers dig into his muscled back a little. Russ’s hips thrust forward against mine just enough to elicit a moan from me. It seems to encourage him because his kiss becomes faster, harder,
“Stop thinking and dance with me,” Russ commands as he lifts a remote from the serving cart and presses a button. A soft piano ballad fills the air around us and despite the smooth, relaxing strains of the chords, my chest tightens.
He takes my hand and leads me closer to the open space near the windows, maneuvering me in a semi-circle so that I’m facing him. His hand glides lightly over my cheek before he takes my hand in his and pulls me to his broad, lean chest. His other hand rests lightly against my lower back. My eyes slip shut and I fight hard not to melt into him. He moves us with ease in small circles all around the makeshift dance floor. If the entire 30 days are going to be like this, I should really reconsider the entire deal. If this is what I have to contend with, I’ll be confessing my love within two weeks and that’s simply not an option. It would ruin everything.
“Relax,” he whispers in that deep voice of his.
“I can’t,” I whisper back.
Russ stops just as the song comes to an end and looks down at me. “You have to trust me, Linds. It’s just me. You. Us. Our chat room just got bigger. And three dimensional.” His thumb and forefinger grasp my chin and tilt my head further back so that I’m looking up into those pools of intense green. “And a lot more intimate.”
My heart speeds. Butterflies take flight by the masses. My resolve weakens and in this moment I want nothing more than to kiss the man who has kept me so enamored all these years. My breathing becomes choppy and shallow. Russ’s pupils dilate and take on that passionate look from before. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, but I can’t help but wonder if he feels how I feel on the inside.
I lift my hand and place it over his heart only to confirm that he too has a racing heart. I lick my lips and do nothing to control myself. I want him so badly. The tingling between my thighs is raging, begging for attention that only a man can pacify. It feels like ten years of pent up feelings are culminating inside of me. I mean, how many women would be able to refuse him in this scenario, this man that I’ve known for a decade but only just met? Am I justified in what I feel, in wanting him, or am I just acting like some sex-deprived doe-eyed slut? Thoughts of Trey and his question about me being “easy” pop into my mind but I squash them right away. Fuck this! I’m doing something for me, taking something that I’ve wanted for a very long time. I deserve it.
“Tell me what you want and it’s yours,” he breathes huskily.
“I want… I want you. I want all of you,” I reply, feeling desperate and driven by my desire for him.
Ten years of desire that is culminating right now. Right where I stand.
Russ seems nearly pained by my confession. His hands cup my face so lightly it’s as if he’s afraid to hurt me. “Say it again,” he whispers, his eyes shut.
“I want you. I always have.”
Russ opens his eyes and gives me one tentative look. It’s that look that screams I’m about to kiss you so stop me now if you don’t want this!
I do nothing to stop him. I don’t want to stop him. My brain may be screaming “Run, fool, run!” but my body is practically begging “Please.”
Russ bends his head and brushes his soft, full lips against mine feather light; it only stokes the fire burning within me. I lean further into him, silently asking for more, for as much as he’ll give, for all of him. He leads me, deepening the kiss to proportions that I’ve never experienced. His lips are soft but firm against mine. His tongue slips over my lips and I open for him. He wastes no time sliding his tongue painfully slowly into my mouth, caressing mine with his. My fingers dig into his muscled back a little. Russ’s hips thrust forward against mine just enough to elicit a moan from me. It seems to encourage him because his kiss becomes faster, harder,
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