The past will always catch up with you in the end.
She glanced out over the street. The sleet had turned to rain and was coming down harder now. When she looked back at Alex his eyes were fixed on her.
"Tell me," he said. He put a hand to her jaw then, and she let him, and in that instant she knew something had shifted, something twisting and turning in what they were, what they were doing. "Tell me," he said again, "am I wrong now?"
His mouth on hers...
It was such a shock she almost jerked her head away. Then, it became even more of a shock that she had not pulled away and, instead, was pushing back against him, her lips meeting his, soft against firm, the smoothness of her skin against his harsh stubble.
Whisky and beer and that indefinable taste of another person's mouth, the pressing wetness of his tongue against hers.
She felt intensely aware of his body against her, too, his arms drawing her harder into his embrace. Of the people all around them appearing to recede, either a lull in the conversations or her senses merely shutting them all out.
The thumping of her heart in her chest and the ache in her lungs as she realized she had forgotten to breathe.
The sudden confusion as she pulled away from him, stepped back, felt a renewed blast of cold wind and rain hammering against her face.
She spun away, out onto the wide pavement, no shelter now, no man pressing against her, no mouth mashing with hers.
She stopped, looked back, and he was standing on the edge of the crowd of smokers, watching her, his soaked suit clinging to him.
She couldn't work out if he was being sensitive by giving her space, or holding back, just as shocked and confused as she was.
She shouldn't have done it. Allowed it to happen.
They'd both had too much to drink. He was over-emotional, vulnerable. She was the one who should have seen all that and stayed in control. She was the responsible adult here.
She should never have allowed herself to get into this situation.
The kiss. It was reckless. Insane. The element of surprise, of it just happening. The inevitability. The implications.
She couldn't process it right now. The madness of that kiss, the why and the what next of it.
She turned away from him, finally dipping her head against the relentlessness of the chill winter rain. Her face was numb. Her brain, too.
She started to walk, and didn't know if he was following or not, didn't know if she wanted him to be, or what she would do if he was.
And that last... that scared her more than anything.
//end of extract//