She could leave and go back downstairs. I could get dressed and follow her down separately. And we could both carry on as if nothing had happened. We could even kid ourselves that nothing but a normal conversation had passed between us as she came to borrow my wife’s shoes. Is that what she wanted? “So,” I began hesitantly and immediately dried up. “So.” she replied, with a crooked smile, with no intention of letting me off the hook. “So, do you want to go back downstairs, or did you want to wait here with me. I mean, I still need to change and things.” A pause, a beat, a breathless moment passed. She motioned for me to sit on the bed. I sat on the edge of the bed, halfway down its length, turned slightly towards her. I felt the towel around my waist loosen as I did so. If I stood up again, it would fall, she would see how hard I was for her, and there would be no turning back, whatever happened. She wasn’t smiling now, she looked…I wasn’t sure, nervous? Wide-eyed? Excited? With. She couldn’t think straight. Her heart thumped erratically. She had to get rid of him. Why had she even opened the goddamn door? She reached for the glass on the sofa and went into the kitchen. He followed.“You should go,” she said, finally.He laughed though it was more cursory than genuine amusement.“I’m not going anywhere.”She let out a breath. “You’re so arrogant.”She went to the sink, filled the glass and drank the water fast. It was cold enough to make head hurt. Lane had come closer and she felt his hands on her narrow hips, pulling her back against him.“You don’t have to act all – hard to get,” he breathed. “I know you, remember?”Hazel tried to move away but he pressed his weight against her, effectively pinning her against the sink. She put down the glass and brought her shoulder up as he tried to kiss her neck. She knew that once he’d got past a certain point, she wouldn’t be able to resist. But was resistance necessary? She wanted him, sure. But it wasn’t just sex. There.
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