My body tenses. My brain is screaming that the smart thing to do is to back away, but my body is plotting a coup. So instead of retreating, I rest my head on his shoulder.
That strong, warm, comfortable shoulder where I poured my heart out yesterday. The one that belongs to me now.
My lips part, the damp heat of his skin grazing my face.
I shouldn’t. I know that.
But there’s no fighting whatever this is. Gravity pulls me closer, my erection pulsing, making contact with him. It’s all feral want from here.
My lips kiss the curve of his neck, a touch followed by a suction so faint it could be imagined.
A quiet, muffled moan makes it past his lips. I imagine them open needy in the dark.
His hand finds my waist, fingers disappearing beneath my shirt.
Is he tugging me closer or is he about to push me the hell away? I don’t know. And I don’t get the chance to find out, because in that exact second, the lights flicker back on.
As the blinding light fades, I jerk back so fast I nearly trip over my own feet. I don’t dare look at him, let alone acknowledge what just happened.
I’m not an asshole, not tonight and not with him at least, so I offer him my hand.
There’s hesitation in his eyes. He blinks up at me, searching my face for… an explanation. Maybe regret. I don’t know. Slowly, he takes it.
His hand is warm, made to fit mine, and for a split second I wonder if he feels it too.
I shove the thought away before things get out of control—again. So I force myself to speak, trying to sweep this whole disaster under the carpet.
“I’m so sorry. I know I’m the worst. I’m… I’m always this stupidly clumsy.”
Yosh clears his throat.
“It’s… uh, yeah. It’s fine. Happens.”
He retreats behind the kitchen chair, curling his fingers tightly around the top rail.
Happens?
“All the time,” he adds. “You know, people falling.”
I stare at his hands, at the restless gestures, at the way he pushes his hair over his shoulder.
He laughs.
“Anyway. Food’s getting cold.”
Right. Because food fixes everything. Proof neither of us was blessed with grace.
Greek tragedy is about all I know, so this feels on brand.
I pull my chair back and sit. Yosh does the same, casually picking up his fork like nothing happened.
Like I didn’t just have my lips on his neck, feel him hard beneath me, his hand wrapping around my waist, thumb tracing a slow half-circle over my stomach. He must’ve felt me react.
The thought alone sends a shiver down my spine.
The storm still rages outside, wind rattling the wooden shutters. I’m grateful for the noise. It covers all the things we’re not saying.
We eat in silence.
