Coffee Cont.

New love is intense. Fun. Frightening. Exhilerating. All those hormones and pheromones, and that new car smell of attraction. It had been too long for me. Perhaps that’s part of what impaired my judgement, de-magnatized my moral compass. Adam was all I thought about. Everything I did was just to get me to the next time in his arms, tasting his kiss.

He was careful. He said he was paranoid. He didn’t wish to make a fool of anyone, but lust/love makes us careless. We stopped meeting at the coffee shop. The last time there, he’d leaned across the table and given me the tenderest, most sensual kiss I’d ever had. I had kissed a lot of frogs, and little had I known, none of them were very good at it. Adam, he was an ace. He knew what he was doing. It was intoxicating and mind-numbingly arousing. He made me feel like a schoolgirl, giddy, naive, wet and wanting.

After that kiss, he’d hovered in front of my face and said very quietly, “You woke me up, Felicity. I didn’t know I’d be allowed this again.”

I excused myself. I had legitimate reason, needing a quick freshen up in the ladies’ thanks to the effect he was having on me.

When I came out of the stall, he was standing there, leaning against the sink. I know I looked surprised, I could see myself in the mirror over his shoulder. He reached for me, I looked at the door, he said, “Locked” before his mouth found mine, and there was nothing sweet or tender about it.

Coffee

Mirrored

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