A continuation of the tale I began telling but didn’t have time to finish…
I bit my lip again as the New Englander’s look intensified. The hum of energy between us felt almost audible. It had been too long since I had felt that level of attraction. My body leaned in toward him, inviting him to make his move.
He pulled away. It was calculated. Like a fisherman pulling a line taunt to set the hook. I felt my eyes sparkle, excited at the game. Though I wanted to mirror his pulling, I held my position instead—chin propped on hand, breasts crushed against forearm. I grinned. And watched him drink me in.
There’s something about an obvious appraisal, a long appreciative look, a head to toe stare that that makes one feel desirable. He came closer again.
“Wanna go have some fun?” he asked, low enough that only I could hear.
I cut my eyes up to his, everything in me screaming to say yes. Well, almost everything. The angel in me battled my id in those brief moments. She fought hard. She painted pictures of regret that were a stark contrast to my visions of delicious carnal knowledge of this man.
With her fluttering wings fanning my heart I took a deep breath and said, “No.”
I was as surprised to hear that single syllable answer as he was.
“No?” he questioned?
“No,” I said, with more conviction than I had had the first time.
He narrowed his eyes, puzzled, as if I had just made an unexpected chess move. What he didn’t know is that I was all out of plays.