11-28-2018, 10:57 PM
The Opening Act
"Careful," he said quietly in warning, a growl in his throat that sent electric shivers down her spine. She could feel his lips curve up with a smile, and she leaned back an inch to watch him warily because a smile was never a good thing, was it?
His hand dropped from her wrist and curved around to her lower back, then suddenly she was pressed against him with a soft gasp. It easily melded into a quiet groan that she desperately tried to bite back. She could feel every muscle, every hard plane of his chest beneath her hands as she'd raised them to keep distance between them. It failed and now he was warm and firm, and the damn smell of him was far more intoxicating than any of those drinks had been.
"Let me remind you."
He snapped his fingers and commanded reality to bend for him, taking them outside in the cold where it wasn't actually cold. The gently falling snow seemed to be their only audience, her back pressed to the wall and his heavy jacket shielding her skin from the brick. She sucked in a shallow sigh as his hand brushed up her side, her lips parting and chin tilting up in her own challenge. A dare she shouldn't be giving him, but how long had it been? She was starving. She wanted this, no matter how little it was. No matter how meaningless.
It wasn't like he was capable of anything more. She didn't think so, at least. Not that he would want it anyway. Not from her.
His thumb drew over her jawline, and she could feel his vibrant green eyes on her as his fingers disappeared into her hair. Then his mouth was on hers, claiming, taking her in a firm kiss that stole a soft noise from her throat. She barely began kissing back when he was gone, briefly, with a nip on her bottom lip. But he was there again and kissing deeper, demanding the moan that betrayed her.
She was left to gasp a breath when his hand drifted to her back again, pulling her into his chest as his lips whispered across her cheek.
"Come alive for me, Wallace."
She already was. Her heart raced a damn marathon for him and her hands had clutched into his damp shirt, clinging so he couldn't let her fall back into the nothingness she lived in, the endless numbness. She wasn't done. He couldn't be done, not yet. She hadn't meant to be so easy for him, but damn it, he always seemed to make her so wild and reckless when he was near. Always meaning only the one other time she'd ever seen him.
Her heart pounded so hard and her chin tilted more, up and away in an offering of her throat. She wanted to feel his dark stubble against her skin, feel his lips and his teeth take what they want of her. It was wild enough that he even wanted any of her. She took no notice of his blood on her hands as she lowered them, gripping the sides of his shirt above his hips as she tried to get better control over everything he was doing to her.
It wouldn't hurt, though, just to touch him a little. It wouldn't push her over the edge, and so she did. Her right hand loosened the grasp on his shirt, twisted it up until she could splay over his warm skin, her breath shallow as she breathed his name again.
"Woolf.."