The following morning, Emma sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers fiddling nervously with the hem of her night wear.
Her mind replayed the events of the previous night for the hundredth time—the warmth of Alex's lips, the tenderness of the kiss, and the electric pull she felt in that fleeting moment.
It wasn't just a kiss. At least, not to her. But had it been the same for Alex? Did it stir something in him too, or was it just a heat-of-the-moment thing he already regretted? She thought thinking about the look on his face when she pulled away.
What if she hadn't pulled away? Would he had gone all the way with her? Was he attracted to her? Did he already like her?
Although she had always known she was beginning to find him attractive, she never thought she would enjoy kissing him or having him caress her like he did the previous night.
