Leaning down, he grabs something between where my feet are parted. His hand brushes my ankle, making me suck in a breath. Standing up, he holds a debit card up. “You dropped this, Layla.”
I feel frozen as I stand here like a moron, tingling in places that should not be tingling. And not from the bourbon either.
Finally, I snap out of it and snatch the card away from him. “Uh … th-thanks.”
“No problem,” he says and takes a step back. “Have a good night.”
Turning slowly, he walks away. And judging by my body’s sharp reaction to him … hopefully out of my life. Dane Wade isn’t the type of guy you can kiss and forget.
And since I don’t do the whole relationship thing, there’s no point in becoming a prisoner to his touch.
I might not see marriage or children in my future, but if I see a prospect to have a little fun with? You’re damn right I’m going to take it. I won’t feel bad either. Men somehow look hotter if they get around campus. A girl sleeps with a handful of guys, and suddenly, she’s deemed a whore. We’re not in the olden days anymore, folks. Time to catch up with the times.
Now, that isn’t to say I sleep around on the regular. In fact, I’ve only had sex with a few different guys. But fooling around? Making out and allowing a bit of fondling? No harm there. As long as I don’t see myself getting attached to the guy, I’ll kiss him silly. If there’s a chance of one of us catching feelings, hell to the no. Kissing is far too personal. In my opinion anyway.
So, as I said before, Dane isn’t a guy I should be kissing. I know my weaknesses. And it turns out, guys who look like that, with sad eyes and a tortured soul … might just be one of them.
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