07-09-2023, 09:44 PM
He followed her through the park like a lost soul seeking the shores of home. Natalie had always taken his reticence for indecision, or perhaps reluctance, particularly after the casino. Yet sometimes he looked at her with such longing it was as if she wasn’t standing right there. His fingers trailed up her arm, barely touching really, but it only sent the shiver of it deeper. She hadn’t lied to Adrian about waiting, and the simplicity of the affection captured her attention entirely, though she didn’t think Jay was even trying to tease. Sensible thoughts dived off a cliff edge about then. Because of the softness in his gaze and the softness in his touch, neither asking a question, yet an answer came anyway like a dizzying rush in her chest.
His words burst that captivation into something purely devilish, though, and it sparked in her eyes like the promise of that damnable grin. “Don’t lick it?” she repeated, the faint inflection of a question this time, wicked with tease. Laughter followed, sultry, genuine. Her fingers had already wound tighter in his belt loop, a want expressed the moment he stepped closer. She could feel the pull of his waistband from his hips. The promised heat of skin, firing her own pulse. She was in no mood to relinquish, and she ignored the door entirely. There were no bloodied feet to remind them of waiting duty this time. No looming disasters at all beyond the threat of cold food.
The last year had been hard, and this was the only thing to salvage from the wreckage of so much loss. The only thing left to tip the delicate balance between living and existing. Realising shattered the last tenuous vestiges of control, eclipsing the best laid intentions to a single point of need, and a different kind of hunger than the dinging door promised. To want to feel the connection was as real and vital as it felt to her then; the kind she could burn herself again and again trying to capture. Everything else could wait. She kissed him like sea reaching shore, inevitable, the taste of sinful laughter still on her lips, until she was consumed with the intensity of how close he stood, and how much she needed him.
His words burst that captivation into something purely devilish, though, and it sparked in her eyes like the promise of that damnable grin. “Don’t lick it?” she repeated, the faint inflection of a question this time, wicked with tease. Laughter followed, sultry, genuine. Her fingers had already wound tighter in his belt loop, a want expressed the moment he stepped closer. She could feel the pull of his waistband from his hips. The promised heat of skin, firing her own pulse. She was in no mood to relinquish, and she ignored the door entirely. There were no bloodied feet to remind them of waiting duty this time. No looming disasters at all beyond the threat of cold food.
The last year had been hard, and this was the only thing to salvage from the wreckage of so much loss. The only thing left to tip the delicate balance between living and existing. Realising shattered the last tenuous vestiges of control, eclipsing the best laid intentions to a single point of need, and a different kind of hunger than the dinging door promised. To want to feel the connection was as real and vital as it felt to her then; the kind she could burn herself again and again trying to capture. Everything else could wait. She kissed him like sea reaching shore, inevitable, the taste of sinful laughter still on her lips, until she was consumed with the intensity of how close he stood, and how much she needed him.