Zariah
The dance is over. At least for me. I decide to go ahead and leave. I know that the night is young, and I could go back inside and dance with my friends and forget all about what has just happened between Micah and myself, with the help of a few beverages, but I’m not going to do that.
The warmth from his lips still lingers on mine as I turn and walk away, headed toward home. I can’t believe everything that has transpired. How in the world is it possible that he’s my mate? And that he’s gone so far as to kiss me? Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought he’d give in to the mate pull enough to act on it long enough to taste me for even a few seconds.
That kiss lasted longer than mere seconds–it was all-consuming, lasting so long by the time he pulled back, my lungs were burning.
I hadn’t wanted it to end though.
Now, as I traipse home, forgetting to gather my skirts to keep them out of the fallen leaves and dirt, all I want to do is forget about it.