About WITHOUT WORDS
“I wasn’t sure it was right for me to come,” I admitted, still not earning eye contact back. My nerves bubbled in my stomach and my mouth began to take off. “It felt wrong, the way the day ended, and I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have…”
Rob looked up then, and the hand that wasn’t holding on to his drink like a lifeline moved, landing on my forearm.
I stared at his dark skin against my arm, shivered as warmth radiated from his touch. And blessedly, my mouth stopped moving.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Rob said, his slow speech forcing me to hang on every syllable. “And I’m glad you’re here.”
I held his gaze, though it was so charged I had a crazy thought I might lose control of myself completely and leap into his arms, or lick him, or something. It was the same way
I’d felt standing on the top of the cliffs at La Jolla or driving over the Coronado Bridge. I knew I wasn’t going to fall, but it didn’t change the very real possibility that I could—that people probably had.