Page 81 of Thirst For Me
Wearing nothing but a pair of dark sweats.
Dear god.
My gaze ravages his naked torso as he stands there, staring at me. I think I’ve shocked him.
He’s shocked me more.
Juicy pecs. Abs for days. Leanly muscled V disappearing into the low-slung sweats ...
“Sierra. Is everything okay?”
I blink up at his eyes, struggling not to gawk.
How can he even ask me that? Has anything ever been “okay” between us?
When I don’t answer fast enough, he glances past me, trying to figure out what exact disaster is at play. Like if I’m standing here, athisdoor, the town must be on fire.
“You left,” I finally manage to say. Because that sums up the disaster, doesn’t it?
I was there. You left.
“Left?”
“The bar.”
“Yeah. Uh, I always leave the bar around that time.”
“But I was there.”
He takes that in. Nods. “You were there,” he agrees softly.
So, at least he’s admitting that he knew I was still sitting there when he left.
“You could’ve come over and had a drink.”
“I could’ve.”
The acknowledgment reinforces the rejection.I know I could’ve. I know you would’ve let me. I didn’t want to.
I swallow. “So, you just want to be enemies? Is that it?”
His bottomless gaze slides over me. “No. I don’t want us to be enemies. But that’s just how it is, right?”
Maybe.
Or maybe we could be something else. Something more?
Like enemies, plus ... I don’t know.
Lovers?
Yes.Fuck yes, we could.
We both know we could.
He’s single. I’m single. And I can’t stop undressing him with my eyes wherever he goes, no matter how much of an ill-mannered jerk he’s being. He must notice it.
How I fucking thirst for him.
