Hungering for Hotness

I stepped into the office and our eyes locked. The confident strut I learned in my youth carried me away while my eyes stayed on him.  I looked away, biting my bottom lip as a tingle shot up my spine.  I walked to my desk, knowing he felt my gaze and the hunger behind it.  It wasn’t intentional.  I walked in to see him in his element.  Behind him, my favorite views of the city I grew up in.  In front of him a group hanging on his every word.  He was in control and proving his ability to run his meetings and lead his teams.  It is that magnetism that pulls me in whenever I see him.  It’s the memory of our first conversation and the first time I considered dating someone other than my husband since our first date nearly 16 years ago.  I liked talking to him and wanted to know more.  And he saw me.  It became instinct to hunt down my prey that burns in embers with each breath and sigh as he runs through my mind in those jeans he wore Friday. It’s the sleek lines and planes of his body in the neatly cut navy suit that hung on his frame today. In that moment his eyes locked with mine and it didn’t matter that he was in a meeting and I wasn’t even in the same room.  He saw me and I saw him and I’m certain he saw the hunger in my eyes.  It’s a forbidden romance that died before it started and he is one I can never have, but in my mind I already have.


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