kacey-cleary

What__ wrong is that every morning and every night, I lie in bed wondering why you__e not beside me.

I could lay here and stare at him forever. I don__ want to let go. Ever.

What the hell do I have to do to get your attention? Do I need to get up there?_ I throw an arm toward the stage. His eyes swell for just a second, in shock. He reaches forward to hold my hands, but he catches himself in time and instead folds them across his chest. __elieve me, you have my full attention.

I barrel into his arms, my mouth connecting with his. Seizing him. Feeling him. Loving him.

He leans in closer and closer until his breath caresses my mouth. I__ paralyzed. I swear he__ going to kiss me. I swear I__ going to let him.

There__ something different about him, and I don__ have to think hard to see it. Something about the way he takes over a room, the way he looks at me, like he has already identified and can disarm every one of my defense mechanisms with no effort, like he sees through them to the disaster lying beneath. And he wants it.