WILL
I didn’t speak, just took her hand in mine, enjoying how right it felt there, and walked her to a secluded, dim spot on the floor.
The music shifted to a jazzy, slow number, and I thanked the music gods for the perfect timing. I knew the basics to most styles, but I longed to hold her close, our bodies swaying to a slow tune, feeling her wrapped up in my arms.
I placed my hand on her back and felt her shiver under my touch. Our eyes connected, and that searching stare read me again. No words were spoken. None were necessary. We’d known each other forever. Yet this close proximity brought a flood of memories back. Memories that I blocked out because I knew I could never have Charlotte Dubois, however much I longed for her.
Charlotte’s hand wound its way around my neck and this touch felt right, so different than April’s wandering hands. The brush of her fingertips on my skin did funny things to my insides. Her other hand rested on my chest, and my body hummed under her touch. I moved her even closer, if that was possible, and welcomed the sweet torture that was Charlotte.
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