CHAPTER 83: Meeting Marco
Alexander started the car and headed to the restaurant where he said he'd made reservations, but this time, the silence wasn't filled with the usual comfortable quiet or the quiet that sometimes held unspoken arguments. It crackled with something else entirely. A delicious tension that had my stomach twisting in a new kind of knot.
The lingering scent of his cologne in the air, a mix of citrus and something clean and woodsy made it hard for me to form coherent thoughts either. Every time I stole a glance at his profile, the sharp angles of his jaw softened by the low light filtering through the window, and my breath hitched.
The radio blared a pop song, shattering the charged silence momentarily. As the music filled the car, Alexander's hand brushed mine on the center console. It wasn't a fleeting touch. He lingered, his fingers brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.