All is shades of black and white except the bright blues watching me.
Gaze fixed on his, I place my palms on the park bench and press down, forcing my shoulders back and breasts out. I smile when his eyes blaze in reply. I’d give a wink, but he’s not looking at my face. No. Those bright blues are drinking in the length of my legs.
Anticipation swirls inside me.
His sturdy jawline is dressed in a sharp five o’clock shadow. Sexy masculinity at its best, that shadow is calling me. So I uncross my bare legs and stand, a movement he mirrors from the park bench across from mine.
Eyes tracing a line from my ankle to breast, he approaches, igniting my heart in the most fantastic way. As he draws closer, his gaze locks on my collarbone. Hunger is there. Intense hunger, which pulses through my veins.
My breath comes faster.
Want tears through me when his chest brushes mine. The shadow still calls, so I command my arm to pull it to my flesh, but I’m locked, frozen.
Damn it. Not again.
Lust pleads for his lips to seize me. But they don’t. They don’t even graze.
His breath caresses the skin below my ear, torturing me with awareness that Aaron Keller’s lips are a heartbreaking sliver from my neck.
And I can’t touch him.
This post is part of a series under the category Prelude To My Novel.