Love makes your heart flutter, like millions of butterflies dancing around in your belly. Love puts a smile on your face while playing musical notes that gently strum your heart. Love holds your hand, stroking it tenderly, massaging little slices of your soul.
Beth MicheleBut sometimes, I feel like something's missing, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. That little something extra. Excitement. A challenge. An adventure. Maybe I should bungee jump off of the empire state building or run naked in central park. Nah, that would just be plain crazy, and I'd get arrested. That wouldn't end up well. Unless there was a hot guy dressed in a uniform fingerprinting me. Then it might just be worth it.
Beth MicheleHis touch does strange things to me. It makes me feel things. Things I'm not supposed to feel. Things I can't allow myself to feel. It's like his fingers are strumming my heartstrings, pulling, plucking, twisting, and I'm helpless. Completely and utterly helpless.
Beth MicheleGabby, I told you I'd give you space, but I never said I wouldn't fill your space with flowers.
Beth MicheleBrad's smile reflects mine. "Morning, cutie." I melt just like the Wicked Witch. "Morning," I reply, unable to do anything else but smile.
Beth MicheleEverything looks so much brighter today. The sky is a magnificent cobalt blue, the clouds look like puffy white marshmallows, and I'm happy. not the fake, suck-it-up-and-put-a-smile-on-your-face-happy. Really happy. For the first time in a long time.
Beth MicheleWith my portfolio and latte in hand, I finally make my way out the door. This time, I take a prolonged look over my shoulder. As the door closes, Brad's eyes meet mine, and the corners of his lips rise sweetly. Adorable. Absolutely adorable.
Beth MicheleI spy with my little eye, something that is so beautiful, it leaves me breathless."
Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath and answer, "Trump Towers?" When I turn my head to look at him, I see serious brown eyes staring back at me.
"Nope... you.
I lay my hand over his and give it an empathetic squeeze. "I know what it's like to be damaged."
Brad raises his eyes to mine. "I don't know, Gabby. We're all damaged, right? It's what we make of the wreckage that matters.
You're not ready for me yet, as much as I wish like hell you were. But I'm patient. I'd wait forever to be the one who gets to hold your heart.
Beth MichelePagina 1 di 3.
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