Adrien #2
There’s the slightest movement of her hips against me, so subtle I could convince myself I imagined it, but it’s enough to make me hold my breath. Her eyes remain closed, but her face is entirely relaxed now.
And then the corners of her lips lift into a brief smile.
The mischievous one I remember very well. Like she’s indulging some private fantasy inside her head.
Jesus, help me. Really.
I would love for all my ancestors watching this to stand up and give me a standing ovation for staying perfectly still and not doing anything.
Look at me, being a stabilizing presence.
The blade remains at my neck, a silent reminder not to fuck this up, but her other hand reaches for mine. The second her fingers touch my wrist and lift it, I follow without hesitation.
I thought there’s no way my heart could go any faster, but apparently it can.
I keep my hand loose, letting her guide it wherever she wants. She places my palm against her cheek, then she sets her own hand over mine, anchoring the touch and claiming it.
My lips part as my smile widens a bit more.
My fingers slip into her hair, desperate and tender at the same time, still fighting the instinct to pull her closer as she leans into my hand, practically cuddling it. It’s almost like I can see the blinking light finally catching, turning into a steady flame, the bulb no longer loose.
My thumb grazes the skin beneath her eye, and that’s when her eyelids lift again. My heart gives a small jump, fear flickering through me that her sight might betray her and turn against her. But she still seems calm.
Good.
Should I say something? I don’t know.
She tangles her fingers with mine that are still drowning in her hair, and guides my hand down, on her throat.
Suddenly she lets go of my hand and leaves it there, on her neck, as if she’s waiting for me to do something or testing me.
Just like that.
At first, I barely touch her. I keep my hand light, painfully hesitant, trying to understand what’s happening, what she’s asking for. But then my body takes over, the longing takes over. And I can’t stop it even if I want to.
My fingers circle back to her nape and my thumb stays on the front of her neck, gently grazing up and down the length of it, feeling her artery pumping alive under my touch.
She has a goddess neck, truly. It’s one of my biggest weaknesses. I know exactly how she tastes there, I can feel it on my tongue already. Sweet, hot, addictive in a way that ruins me quietly.
There’s the slightest glimpse of her sweat, just proof of her skin being alive. It glistens subtly in the morning light, barely there.
My thumb traces the delicate curves of her tendons while my other fingers move along the back of her neck, skimming over the spot, the one where her vertebra meets the line of her hair. The spot that makes her shiver when I kiss it. Her body melts into the touch, and mine mirrors it instinctively.
A gentle stroke over there is all it takes for her to exhale—a sound that borders on a gasp.
This is so beautiful. And so unbearable.
A frisson ripples through her body, echoing against mine. She’s taking it and letting it happen, even leaning into it. Warmth builds inside her, second by second, I know it, while the quiet electricity between us hums beneath the surface.
I just want to kiss her.
Only one kiss, that’s all I want.
I let go of her neck and slowly move my hand toward hers.
When she doesn’t recoil, when she isn’t scared of it, I take her wrist. And then my other hand shoots up and grabs the wrist that’s holding the weapon to my neck, and I just quickly roll us over, without thinking it through, my body just does it on its own.
She ends up on her back beneath me, and only then do I realize what I’ve done.
I’m holding both of her wrists beside her head, one of them still clenched around the blade.
She had control. She felt safe. And I just ripped it away from her.
The panic that pours off her body is immediate and violent, poisoning all the air between us. I’m inches from her. Just a few inches from kissing her. But her breath turns rapid and fractured.
She’s scared now. I fucked up. Big time.
I took the one thing she had, control, and crushed it without thinking. Why the hell did I do that?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She’s breaking apart under me. I can see it happening. Her gaze flickers wildly from my eyes, to the cross hanging from my neck, to the ceiling above us. Her mind is spiraling now, and her body is finally catching up, starting to tremble.
I want to fix it, but every possible movement feels wrong. Every breath feels too loud. And still, traitorously, I can’t stop thinking about how close her mouth is to mine. How little distance there is between us.
But it doesn’t matter anymore. I found her frequency, we were there together, and now it’s gone.
Come back.
Please come back.
Come back. Come back. Come back.
I release one of her wrists, not the one holding the weapon, and reach for her cheek, stupidly hopeful that I can pull the connection back before it’s totally lost. The second my hand leaves her wrist, her head jerks violently to the side and her eyes squeeze shut with the quiet resignation of someone expecting to be hurt.
Oh God.
No no no.
I let go of her entirely and my body jolts upright, moving backward until I hit the foot of the bed, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.
She’s still frozen, her eyes squeezed, her whole body braced like she’s still waiting for something to come crashing down on her.
My insides turn inside out, bringing the dreaded nausea. I gulp over and over, trying to swallow the scalding and glum sickness.
Cautiously, she opens her eyes. She turns her head just a little, confused and surprised that nothing followed.
Then she sees me, perched rigidly at the edge of the bed, frozen in place. She straightens so fast it’s like she’s been electrocuted. She slams herself back against the headboard, scrambling, desperate to put space between us.
I messed up. Royally.
I get up from the bed and walk backwards, holding her gaze, never breaking it, until my back hits the wall.
And I just stand there. My naked back glued to the cold wall, my fingers shaking. She’s also frozen, pressed to the corner of the bed. She looks like a frightened animal huddled in the corner of its crate, terrified of the hand it thinks is coming to grab it.
Then she just rises from the bed abruptly, like courage has been injected straight into her veins, and without a second of hesitation she grabs the empty plate from her nightstand and hurls it at me.
I duck instinctively.
The plate explodes against the wall above my head, shards raining down, some of them grazing my back. I straighten just in time for another object to come flying—a glass, still half-full of water. It misses my face by inches and shatters too, droplets splashing across my bare skin.
Another one is already airborne before I can react.
This time, though, I reflexively catch it.
She freezes mid-motion and so do I, standing there with the glass clenched in my hands.
We just stare at each other.
For a split second she looks almost disappointed that I caught it. Her pupils flick between my face and the glass. So without breaking eye contact, I fling it over my shoulder. I only hear it shatter against the wall behind me.
We stay frozen for another second and then she giggles all of a sudden.
Wait.
Wait. Wait. Wait.
Her whole torso shakes with the sound. She clamps a hand over her mouth like she might physically trap the laugh back inside.
Oh my God.
I didn’t hear this for six years.
Do it again.
Please please please, do it again.
I smile too, unable to help it, watching her try to smother the laugh. She looks more surprised by it than I am, like it slipped out without her permission.
My gaze flicks instinctively to the last intact object on her nightstand. It’s not just a drinking glass this time. It’s a large pitcher. She notices it at the exact same moment, her eyes jump there, then snap back to me.
I tilt my head, giving her a clear—no, you won’t—look. And of course she will.
She drops her hand from her mouth, and I catch the cocky smile cutting across her face just before she grabs the pitcher and throws it straight at me.