The craving is instant, the hunger unmanageable.
Tilting her head, I feed. She opens further, our mouths fusing naturally. The crack in my chest becomes a gaping wound as I free-fall into what I’m feeling, pouring myself into her, which ignites a crazed need to possess her.
Seconds away from unleashing, but hyperaware we aren’t alone, I crack my eyes as an older couple comes into view at the edge of my periphery. Her moan vibrates in unison with mine as I allow myself a second longer, her hands fisting my hair as she sucks my tongue. My cock twitches in response, forcing me to break our kiss. Pressing my forehead to hers, she slowly opens her eyes, whispering my name with hunger while gazing up at me in confusion as to why I stopped our kiss. I lift my chin toward the couple as she pulls her hands away, eyes dimming considerably while she walks closer to the glass, crossing her arms.
Furious with the knowledge that I got a taste of something I know I’ll be craving for the foreseeable future, I turn and stalk toward the small bar coming into view on the revolving floor and order us two beers. Uncomfortably hard and pissed about the fact that taste was my first and last, I glance back to see Natalie blankly staring into the skyline.
Beers in hand, I approach to see her eyes trained on my reflection and notice she’s watching me intently. Keeping the connection, I walk back to stand next to her, offering the beer to her reflection. She takes it, thanking the man in the glass softly.
“This, here,” she says, nodding toward our clear outlines. “This is where we can…” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to. I gaze back at her in the glass as we both lift our beers to drink, remaining in the only place we’re allowed to be more than figments of our imagination. At least in her mind.
I’ve been wrapped up in her mystery since she went apeshit on me in the parking lot of the bar on day one. Something about this woman is driving me to the brink of insanity, and I’ve loved every minute of it. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but all that matters to me right now is how strong this pull is; though foreign, it feels fucking amazing.
If I could bottle or needle it, I would inject myself regularly, even as its danger presents itself, and despite her warning, it’s lethal.
I want more.
I want her.
Even if I have some idea of how fucked up the situation could get and know this can’t go further than tomorrow, I can’t bring myself to stop imagining something with her on this side of the glass. In this reality. Feeling bitten and battling the venom of her kiss, I only grow more aggravated as the threat of the clock eats away at me.
Kissing her was heaven, but fucking her before she flees from her self-confessed biggest mistake would be a hell I don’t want to sign up for.
I don’t even have to know what it’s like getting that level of personal with her to understand it would draw me further under and maybe alter me more than her sudden presence in my life is starting to. This is no longer just about what she’s missing. She’s starting to make me believe I’m missing something vital too.
Knowing we ended with that kiss, I pull out my cellphone and kill the rock now blazing through her speakers and turn her to face me, forcing her to deal with the reality on this side of the glass, back into the universe we exist in.
Just before we step off the revolving platform, I pull out my cell, open my camera, and focus on our shoes which fit perfectly inside opposing edges of the frame, an inch of the sidewalk far below between our feet, before pressing the shutter. Satisfied with the snap, I adjust the exposure a little before sending it to her via text.
When her phone rattles in her pocket, she pulls it out and opens it, a sad smile lifting her swollen lips. Gently, I push her hair back and retrieve both earbuds before sticking them into their case and tucking them away in her jacket pocket. Her eyes dim as I down the rest of my beer, hoping it will douse some of the racing in my veins.
“I’m so glad I met you, Easton,” she relays softly.
I can’t say the same now, so I guide her off the platform. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
On the way down, I don’t hold her hand and refuse to so much as brush against her as we walk soundlessly to my truck.
When I turn the engine over, she murmurs my name and I ignore it, knowing whatever words she’s devised will come out as some sort of effort to placate me, which is bullshit because she’s battling the same war. The difference is, she’s winning hers.
“I get it,” I say gruffly, unsure if I do, my anger boiling over at this fucking predicament. I’ve never been so hard for a woman in my life, and I’ve been cut off before even getting a chance to explore all aspects of the attraction. Resigned to let it go, I remained silent the entire ride back to her hotel.