She sat near him, wondering which life it was in that she had so easily agreed to his proposition. He was super sexy, she knew that for a fact, she could feel it emanating off him as he sat there. He wasn't even fancily dressed or anything of the sort. He just radiated sexuality. He was attractive, for sure, but that easy carelessness made her want him so badly, it was strange.
One thing was different however, between their online personas. She was not as words-into-action as he was. She couldn't believe half his stories, but he sure seemed like he’d lived them. And she wasn't very sure if she wanted to join the ranks of his stories. She wanted him, but she didn't want to be another notch. As of now, he gave her the importance of a friend, someone he still needed to pursue, but God, if she could play out her fantasies, he would've won and she would no longer hold the thrill of the chase for him. He was, at heart, an intensely male hunter, and the chase made him want. She was damned if she’d fall.
Fantasies she had plenty of, she could always resort to fantasies.
She remembered the way his hands had felt at her waist, how his waist had felt under her arms, the strength of his hands as they led her down near-complete darkness… She had wanted him then, too. She had wanted to tell him not to move, when there had been a very fleeting moment when they’d been close enough for their bodies to brush. Dear Lord, she had been so close to kissing him. His hands had been so close to her knee, he had been so damn close. She still couldn't resist the slight twinge of "What if...?" that hit her when she remembered that time, those moments.
Regrets, jeez... What a sucky reality.
