Hot and Burning

[Nesrin Aziz]

His kiss gave her butterflies, and it was the sweetest feeling. That was the source of her smile when she pulled away, the answer to her silent question. Eddie’s hand was warm against her skin, not roaming despite the liberties he could have taken – and by the enticed way he looked down at her, it wasn’t simply that he wasn’t thinking about it. A mischievous look flashed for his jest, a truth she didn’t care to hide. Eddie didn’t even know her real name, but despite it there was little else of her veiled away, not least how much of a flirtatious tease she was. She slipped her fingers along his waistband. “And if the pants I want to borrow are these ones?”

She wanted to draw him into her again then, to feel a bit more of that tentative captivation, even if it was only kissing innocently by his kitchen sink. It made her wary in equal measure to the way it also made her feel a little breathless. In Nesrin’s experience good things never lasted; they ended up hurting eventually, or they had a catch – so she didn't really trust them. And Eddie felt suspiciously like a good thing. Yet at the same time he sounded uncommitted to Moscow, and he'd talked about Manifesto being a distraction when she’d pulled him onto the dancefloor. That alone tempted at her – something with a natural expiration had far less risk. And she always liked the thrill of new things.

She grinned as she withdrew, looking him up and down with the same appreciation as she knew he’d watch her in return. A few backward steps teased, twisting the end of a loose curl, before she turned, and disappeared back into his bedroom to find those pants.