Sweet Poison *Updated every Friday @ 1PM*

Two

I hesitated before looking over my shoulder at the deep voice. Shit. It was him. I thought he'd been long gone by then. But there he was, one leg bent up against the crumbling mortar on the brick wall behind him, lips sliding into a smug side grin as I slowed down on the concrete.

When I came to a complete stop he nodded to me. "You heading out all alone?"

My heart pounded. He was talking to me. Him. Whoever he was.

I played it cool with a quick shrug. "Just how I came in."

There was a pause, his eyes sliding down and back up my figure, making me self conscious, throwing me off balance.

He eased out of his pose nice and slow. "It's dark out."

I glanced around then nodded, the corner of my mouth twitching. "You stopped me just to state the obvious?"

"No." His smile let me know he knew I was only teasing. "I stopped you because I figured I'd untuck my balls and at least get your name after staring you down like a hawk back inside. Don't want you to think I'm a creep or something."

His voice was proper. The way he spoke was dignified. His lilt came in and out, but I placed it immediately. He was Canadian like one of my old roommates.

I didn't see how it mattered to him what I thought of him. We were just two strangers who ended up in the same place at the same time. Unless he envisioned something more than us continuing to be strangers.

I turned around and faced him.

"You weren't..." I slanted my head and squinted my eyes in mock suspicion. "Waiting for me, were you?"

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?"

"A little."

He grinned and lifted his hand to show me something small positioned between two of his fingers. "I can't let the stench settle into the leather. The wife thinks I quit. She can detect the scent like a dog."

"Oh." My eye caught the glimmer of something on his third finger before he dropped his hand to his side again. His wedding band. "You're married."

"I am, but you don't have to back away like that. It's not contagious. Don't worry."

His laugh was nice. Deep and husky. I noticed how it made crow's feet appear in the corners of his light blue eyes.

I don't know why my instinctive reaction to him telling me that he was married was to pull away. Maybe it was because my body was revving up to do things no girl should do with a lawfully taken man.

I moved my hair off my shoulders, the humidity making it stick to my skin, and decided on the spot that I didn't believe him. That was probably true about him needing to hide the smell of his cigarette from his wife. But something told me he had planned on stopping me the moment he walked out.

He stepped closer to me, close enough for me to realize he was even taller than he looked to me inside. It was dark out as he mentioned, a moonless night, and the lighting in the uncrowded café had been very dim. But towering over me he stood almost directly underneath the partially lit-up sign for the small shop. His position made it easy to make out his features. Strong jaw and high cheekbones, nice skin, full head of medium brown hair. He needed a shave though. It looked like he was well-moisturized, but also like he'd skipped swiping a razor over the bottom half of his face for at least a few days. Stressed maybe?

"Well, I haven't been afraid of the dark since I was nine years old," I told him with a slight angle of my face.

I kind of blurted it, didn't know what to do, what to say, how to act with him in such close proximity. He was making me nervous.

His easy grin widened. "I mean, it's late. Almost tomorrow. You shouldn't be walking these streets solo."

"I can handle myself."

He brought his cigarette to his lips and tilted his head. "What's a pretty, young girl like you doing out alone in a place like this on a Saturday night anyway?"

He inhaled, his cheeks deflating and bringing attention to the GQ-friendly bones that shaped his face. There was a squint in his eyes until he released his breath, most of the smoke coming from his nose and creating a gossamer veil over his features. Surrealism. Cigarettes usually brought a nauseating feeling to my gut; they caused haunting memories to surface. But the man was drenched in sex appeal. He made it look different to me. Sexy.

"I go where I feel comfortable," I told him. "I like this place. It's quiet. You can disappear if you want."

"Not you."

The crow's feet were at the corners of his blues again. They made him look older, but contrasted to how boyish he looked as he flirted with me.

He leaned against the brick, languid, casual. "I noticed you as soon as I came in."

I liked his honesty. There was an instant vibe between us. Our energies created a static. A tension as thick as the night's humidity. Heat simmered between my thighs and at the back of my neck.

I glanced away and touched my wavy hair on my shoulder, didn't want him to see how much cheeks were flushing. I'd just washed my hair and gone, no styling. My face was scrubbed and natural too. All I wore was moisturizer and lip balm. No makeup. I couldn't believe we were eye-to-eye, in such close proximity. He was nice to look at, from a distance. Now it was awkward. Or at least I was. I didn't know how to talk to men. He was a grown man. I was a seventeen-year old who'd never been touched, kissed or broken by a man. My hymen was still intact.

"Don't you hang out with friends on the weekend?" he asked.

I fought over how to answer that, went for the most evasive way. "I don't have that many friends."

He nodded. "That's wise. What about your boyfriend? Where's he tonight?"

I knew what he was doing.

I shook my head. "Don't have one of those."

There was another pause between us. I could feel tension swelling deep inside me and knew the same was going on in his body too. We were both fighting against nature. Attraction. Against science. Chemistry.

"It's dangerous to be out here by yourself," he reiterated, tapping his smoke so the ashes flittered to the ground.

"Then maybe I have a fascination with danger or something."

"Maybe." Eye contact. "You're still standing here with me."

His eyes went lower than they had since we'd been standing there. That time he appraised me all the way down to my toes. His eyes roved my legs, then came up, moved past the hem of my denim cutoffs, curved over my slim hips, my small breasts, lingered at my bra strap that was exposed because of the way my loose-fitting t-shirt draped over my shoulder.

"I can give you a ride home if you want. I'm in the black Audi right down here."

He gestured over his shoulder to a sports car parked about halfway down the block. He took a draw of his cigarette as I checked out his expensive four-wheeled toy. It was shiny and sleek. It fit him perfectly.

___________________________________

Ah, do you think Kassandra is going to get in Liam's beautiful exotic car?!

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