and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
She wants to believe him.
She wants to believe that she will never regret this. That she will wake up in his arms and that they will go on to live a happy life together. She wants to believe that she will always lower her defenses around him, that she would always be willing to let him close to her—but she knows better. She’s seen the way that love can twist unto itself, the very sharpness that brought it beauty being the same edge that slices through the chest. She’s watched her father turn from her family. Her mother deal with the aftermath.
She knows love isn’t forever.
She doesn’t even know if love is real.
(Is this love?)
Her heart pounds wickedly against her chest and she wants to pull away, wants to extract herself from his thoughts that have turned increasingly smoky and enticing, but she can’t. What had started as a dare has turned muddy around her ankles, and she can feel herself sinking into it. Leaning into it. His mouth brushes her flesh and she shivers. His teeth rake against her and she nearly moans, the sound building in her throat and getting stuck on her tongue. It’s foggy. Everything is foggy, and she comes undone.
“I already regret it,” she whispers, but she doesn’t break from him. Her lips trace his neck, find the dip of his spine. She trails down his belly, alternating between small bites and the gentlest of kisses. “I can’t be what you deserve,” she pulls back but only so that she can find his neck and then his jaw. She traces her way down his face, stopping by the corner of his mouth. “But I don’t want to think about that right now.”
Her blue eyes are clear, her face stripped clean of pretense when she finds his gaze.
“I want to stop thinking for once in my life, Fox.”
lynx