Your mind is reeling as you try to pierce the haze of your distraction and impose order on your fragmented thoughts:
“How did he know”
“Does anyone else know?”
“What’s he going to THINK of me, oh God….”
“What if someone sees us?”
“What’s he gonna think of my body? Why the HELL didn’t I get up and work out today like I planned to, and skip that goddamn chocolate croissant??? Fuck you, Starbuck’s”
“Jeeeeezus, that feels SO GOOD! I haven’t been touched like this since…. ” Your inner monologue trails off, unwilling to dredge up painful memories of your last serious boyfriend, the one that got away.
Chuckling softly as if telepathically aware of this inner turmoil, the same strong masculine voice that sounded so menacing on the phone behind a closed door this morning, all of a sudden sounds….different, but the same too… as if it had all of its hard edges filed down and rounded off, and now resonates in a velvety baritone evenness, as soothing as distant thunder:
“You….. do know it’s mutual, right? God, I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you… “