I STALK HER | JENLISA

TWENTY-TWO

JENNIE
***

Is this fate?

What are the chances of running in to her of all people, of all places?

Her words scream at me like a red neon sign.

Run.

But I don’t want to run, I want to surrender to her and let her have her wicked way with me.

“I’m Jennie,” I say, offering her my hand.

There’s a look in her eyes that says, I know who you are.

She looks not at me but into me, dissecting and weaving her way through the choppy sea to the calm beneath it all.

The heat of her palm taking mine sends a stirring in my lower stomach.

This is what I wanted, to meet her, but I didn’t know then what it would actually be like.

My knees feel weak.

What a cliché.

“Lisa,” she finally says, not releasing my hand.

I feel energy pulse up my arm, sprinkling pebble bumps all over my skin.

Wet, liquid heat dampens between my thighs, and as if she can sense my ache, her tongue swipes out to dampen her bottom lip.

“This may seem forward, but would you like to grab a coffee?” she asks, finally releasing my hand.

It’s unusual, a connection this intense with someone you just met, but it’s undeniable.

The circumstances and coincidences swirling around us are like a storm hitting land, but I know I’m going to say yes.

Yes to coffee, yes to sex, yes to anything she wants.