|A cool wet hand trailed across her forehead, and through her hair. A bowl of water appeared on the table beside her, and Chad's long, strong fingers dipped into the water, cupping a small amount in his palms. "Victory, dip your head." She couldn't move. The water poured from his hands back into the bowl. His damp palms patted her cheeks and forehead. The feel of his fingers on her skin calmed and soothed. The sweat on the back of her hands disappeared, but the fire inside of her moved from her chest, and took over her whole body.
She leaned her body in to his feeling his solid chest press against her back. His hands smoothed up and down her arms, then wrapped around her waist. The stubble along his jaw-line rubbed along her cheek. His soft curls trailed over her temple and cheek. Gently, his hand tilted her face so her eyes met his. Soft and tender, his lips caressed hers. Not overpowering. Not overwhelming. Tender.
He stared into her eyes. Searching for something. She wanted to ask, but again his mouth covered hers. This time, his kiss was not as gentle. She angled her neck to give him better access. He tasted her, and she him. With her eyes closed, she felt all of him. His chest. His hands. His thighs pressed against hers. His mouth was sinful. It awakened things in her she'd pushed away even before she left Corey. She and Corey hadn't been intimate for months before she left. Work was always more important.
Her body pressed into Chad's, and his responded. The bulge in his pants pushed against her bottom.Â Reality set in. Her eyes sprang open, and she pulled away crushing her body against the cold kitchen wall.
After twenty years of practicing marketing: copywriting, designing layouts, developing advertising campaigns, she realized the plans she put together eventually told a story. And ever since she could snag her mother's Reader's Digest and every teen magazine she could find, she'd dreamed of telling stories.
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