He came here to apologize. He brought me a gift. He cares about me and any anger from that night in the lab has officially melted away. Now I only feel this growing desire between us.
“I have this idea.” He only needs to whisper because he’s so close. I study his lips as he speaks. “Maybe when you care about something, it triggers emotion in you. It’s the suppressed emotion that causes you to lose control. It didn’t work at the lab because you had already gone off. There was no risk or elevated awareness, just general happiness. You were able to be yourself.”
Despite his proximity, I let his theory sink in. It was true. I’d been more relaxed than ever that night. And when I dance, it’s always the idea that I might go off that makes me tense, almost as though the thought of it happening makes it true. Like being on the cusp of a panic attack, just thinking you might have one can push you over the edge.
With him being this close, the power starts to stir in me. But is it him that triggers the power, or is it my feelings for him? I long for the easy comfort of his nearness when he’s not around, but when we are together I feel so hyper-aware of every molecule in the air between us.
“I’m not sure what triggers it,” I say.
Fear? Excitement? Straight-up horniness?
He is so close to me now. My longing must be written all over my features. I would be ashamed but his eyes are dark and stormy with desire too.
“I would never hurt you,” he says with such vehemence that the truth of it settles into my bones.
“I know,” I say.
“But I’m not without sin,” he says.
He’s gaze studies my bare shoulder. He’s watching it like it might have the answers to everything.
“Who among us is?” Even to my own ears my voice is too deep, too husky.
“Hmm.” His right hand slowly lifts from his side to hover just in front of me. His pointer finger reaches forward and painfully slow, gently presses to the divot at the base of my throat. My body trembles against him. I don’t dare move. A simple finger touched to me is the most direct contact I have felt in years. My eyes shut and I let myself have this moment.
His finger grazes the skin, tracing the shape of my collarbone. As it travels, my shirt shifts out of his way as though waiting for the slightest provocation to fall off. My body tingles with desire, grows heavy from it. My mind battles the luxury of this moment with an alarm bell buried so deep in my longing, it can’t be heard.
“So soft,” he whispers.
He steps closer so the heat of him encompasses my entire front. From the tips of my toes to my hair line, Ifeelhis heat. Not my own. Another body burns against mine for once.
“Nathaniel,” I whisper. I’m not sure if I think he should stop or keep going.
Keep going. Definitely keep going.
“I love how you say my name.”
“Is this a good idea?” I manage to gasp out, though it’s a struggle with his touch short-circuiting my brain.
“I can stop any time you say,” he says. “But I am running an experiment.”
“True.”
“And that takes pushing things to their limits.”
“Yes,” I gasp softly.
“And lots and lots of tests.”
“I fucking love science,” I say on a rushed sigh.
He chuckles and makes a softMmsound. “Me too.”
With eyes still closed I focus only on this moment. I luxuriate in his gentle touch and think only about that. I’m not alone in this. This sort of spark can’t be imagined. His finger stills.
“Remarkable,” he mutters.
It’s enough for me to open my eyes. I gasp in wonder as his finger starts up again, travelling lightly from shoulder to shoulder, tracing my collarbone. Everywhere it touches, his finger leaves a small glowing trail behind, like an overexposed photograph of a shooting star. His touch leaves an imprint on my body. He’s pulling my light to the surface.
