I stared down the hallway. Both fear and longing consumed
me. I willed myself to walk, but every footstep was heavy, dragging with what I
feared I would soon be regret. I stalled outside his door, my heart listening
to his. I could feel it pounding, drawing me forward.
I didn’t even knock. I turned the knob and pushed the door
open. My feet locked in place when I saw him. Daniel. I blinked several times
as I took him in. He was leaning over, bracing himself with his palms flat on
his desk. He must have realized that it was me just before I opened the door.
His head was cocked, his hazel eyes wide.
I couldn’t move. I felt as if I were caught in time and
the second hand was unable to tick on.
Finally he rose, cautious and slow. His eyes were fierce
and desperate, a fire that I’d never seen before burning behind them. My feet
moved of their own accord and my arm dropped from the door. Silently it closed
behind me. Everything in the room was still except for the energy roaring
between us.
“Melanie,” he called to me, a whisper directly to my
heart, pumping it with life. I was mesmerized as he wet his dry lips. His
shoulders were held rigid, his chest trembling with his staggered breaths. I
felt it all—his longing, his desire, his hunger. And I knew he could feel mine.
Quivering under his intense stare, my muscles twitched in anticipation. My
knees went weak when I saw him snap, undecided no more.
I could barely register the movement before he rounded his
desk, and his lips crashed against mine. His hands sank into my hair, pulling
my body roughly against his.
It felt as if my body had burst into flames with his
sudden touch. Everything about him was overpowering, consuming, dominating.
Rough and gentle at the same time.
I pressed into him, my chest against his, our hearts
beating in rhythm. Digging my fingers into his neck, I struggled to get closer.
We were desperate as we clung to each other. We needed to feel, to heal the
scars disfiguring our hearts, to erase some of the hurt. His hands rushed with
need, twisted through my curls, down my back, and then into my hair again. His
kiss was forceful—too intense—ice and fire and sweet—all Daniel. I breathed him
in, touched him, memorized the way he smelled, the way he felt.
His hair was so
soft between my fingers. A shiver traveled down his spine.
With a sudden slant of his head, he swept his tongue
across my lip. I opened to him, drawing him in. There was no teasing or
testing. Aggressively, he moved his mouth with mine, sucking in my bottom lip
at the same time he bit at it. Rough. Hard. Perfect. He pushed me back against
the door, his body flush with mine. A moan escaped my mouth.
Oh, how I had missed this body.
I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his arms, his
muscles firm under my touch. His lips were incessant, his tongue hot and wet.
Fisting a hand in my hair, he pulled it tight, exposing my
neck. His movements slowed as he licked down the sensitive skin, seeking out
the spot behind my ear he knew would ruin me. He sucked, tugging with his lips,
lingering at the delicate hollow below my jaw. I drew in a ragged breath, and
my emotions caught up with me. He remembered.
He kissed his way back up, found my mouth again.
Fingertips caressed and massaged the back of my neck, the skin afire with his
touch.
When he grabbed the back of my knee and hooked my leg over
his hip, I gasped. His palm traveled up
the exposed flesh of my thigh, his thumb rubbing circles, coaxing, persuading,
demanding a reaction. I pushed back into him, my body deprived of his for far
too long.
“Melanie, my love,” he whispered, the words vibrating
against my lips.
“Daniel,” I breathed into his mouth.
He pulled back, hooded eyes flaming in their intensity as
they sought mine. I couldn’t look away as I peered deep into his soul. The love
I found there was never ending, but shrouded in vast regret, grief imprinted on
his heart. He ran his nose along my cheek, murmuring in my ear, this time the
words dripping in sadness. “Only you.”
Those words resonated in the air, and as much as I knew he
wanted to convince himself that they were true, they weren’t.
The weight of what I was doing crushed me. Thoughts of his
wife and child lay heavy on my heart, and I remembered how we had gotten here
in the first place. He hadn’t chosen me.
He didn’t want me.
With trembling hands, I shook my head, trying to keep my
insecurities from pouring out. It was impossible. The feelings of complete
rejection I’d swallowed down and harbored for all these years came bubbling to
the surface and spilled over, erupted as
tears rushing down my face.
“You didn’t want me.”
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