By Sydne Gernaat
I ran my fingers over his black shirt, feeling the soft cotton and barely able to ignore the firm muscle beneath. I knew I should move away, but his musky cologne clouded my mind. Or maybe it was the alcohol.
“I should go,” I whispered. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I could feel his heart beat.
“Okay,” he murmured, his warm brown eyes never leaving mine.
But I found myself staring at his lips. “Is it?” I breathed, his smell intensified, and my last hope of regaining control disappeared.
“No.”
I pulled him closer and kissed him.
Sorry, the phrase ‘musky cologne’ turns me off a piece quicker than boiled asparagus. Plus the story doesn’t have enough before and after hints – not ones of any peculiarity, at least. Not for me.
Since it was so short I felt it was unique the way you wrote it and I felt the feelings. I got the message. Very good.
You got it across well that it was him, not the alcohol, that made her change her mind and stay. Good story.