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“Take off your clothes.” He says, like he’s all business, as he places a towel next to me.
“What?” I blurt, not because I didn’t hear what he said, but because I will not be getting naked in front of him. Is he serious? I know I was mad at him moments ago, though I can’t recall why because I’m too cold to think properly.
“Espie, this is how people get hypothermia. Please, hurry.” I take a labored, shaky breath, trying to change as he turns from me, but I’m struggling. The clothes are sopping wet, too heavy for my shaking frame to pull off.
“Help.” I croak as my heart beats rapidly. I think it’s because I’m nervous that I’ll freeze, but also because I know what my request entails. He turns towards me, surprise occupying his expression— eyes a little rounder, mouth parted, brows slightly raised as if at any moment I’ll order him to turn back around. But I don’t. With each step towards me, my heart skyrockets until my breathing is constrained because he’s arms length away. He reaches out, taking one more step, slowly and cautiously grabbing the hem of my sweater.
I try to breathe steadily, so he can’t see my shaking frame. Why I would be self-conscious about this now, I don’t know. He tugs upwards, gently pulling the sweater off me and tossing it to the floor, which makes an awful sloshing sound that we both giggle at. He looks down at my bra, my black simple bra that really doesn’t fit me properly because the cups are a little too small.
“I suppose you know how to take that off.” He breathes, cheeks a little flushed, before he looks back to my lips. I only nod slowly as he gently trails a hand down my abdomen and slips a finger between the hems of my sweatpants and thong. I can’t hold back my shaky breath as chills cover my entire body.
This is okay, right? We aren’t doing anything… he’s just taking my clothes off, so I don’t freeze. It’s a kind gesture.
I watch as he pulls my sweats down, crouching to my feet and holding a hand on my thigh. My heart screams at me to stop this, to do anything else but let this man touch me. But it feels astonishing— his warm hand on my freezing skin— and I think I need it, so I don’t die of hypothermia. That makes complete sense, at least it does right now.
I lift my leg out of one pant leg as he steadies me with that hand on my thigh. Then he does the same with the other leg, using his free hand to hold down the wet fabric as I lift my other leg out. He looks up at me, eyes fixated on the length of my body. He stops trailing up me, undressing me the rest of the way with his eyes as he stands, meeting my gaze.
“Well, you can get in the tub and…”
“And?”
“And, I’ll wait,” his eyes flick to my lips, and he reaches up, grazing them with his thumb. “I wait in my room.” He swallows, barely moving, hot breath warming me as he looks into my eyes like I’m the only woman he’s ever seen like this.
“Okay.” I barely whisper, and he furrows his brows, leaning in as his hand trails down my neck, brushing wet strands from my shoulder in one maneuver. I look at his lips, preparing for him to collide with mine because he’s staring at mine with such focus, and then he whispers.
“Your lips are turning blue.”
“I should get in the bath…” I glance past him and he tilts his head to the side to grab my attention again. “I have another idea.” He whispers, looking down at my lips before colliding with them desperately. I press a fist to his chest, about to object his advance, really, I am. But I can't bring myself to it because the rush of chills overtaking my body clouds my mind. Either that or I'm just weak– weak from the cold, weak to his warm touch.
I sink into him, adding to the longing like he’s kick-starting a part of my heart I didn't know I had. I grab the collar under his sweater with both hands, pulling him into me. He pinches my chin with his thumb and index, pressing a hand to the mirror behind me. Everything in my body is yearning for more, the taste of his lips, the smell of his musky skin, the strength of his hands. He trails my jaw with the back of his thumb, following through to my shoulder, then sweeping the tips of his fingers down my spine, stopping half-way to bring me closer to him.
Between shaking breaths, we continue to connect, our lips hot with burning desire unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. It’s desperate, like coming up for air when you’ve been shoved underwater. We grip at one another in a way I haven’t known, and I’m the one grabbing his sweater, pulling it off over his head to reveal his tattooed torso. He kisses down my neck as we reconnect, and a moan escapes my throat. I can feel him smile into my skin as he kisses further down my breast, making his way to my stomach, and I grab his hand with my fingers and pull him back. He looks up at me, curious more than anything.
“I’ve never—“
“I know.” He says with a whisper.
“So…”
“So, I don’t have to if you don’t want me to…” A shiver rolls down my spine and then my eyes find the tub, nearly full, the room growing steamier from it. I’m not so cold anymore, not because of the steam, but because of Adrik. He’s warmed my skin with his touch, speeding up my heart rate, so my blood is pumping through me like an unstoppable freight train. All I want, all I can see right now, is him.
There’s a burning in the deepest parts of me as I look back at his messy black hair, burning blue eyes brighter than fire, lips resting against one another patiently waiting for me to kiss them again. Fuck. Is this me rationalizing? Is that really all it takes— a pretty face and a propensity for pissing me off?
“Espie?”
“I--” my heart is pounding in my ears, among other places that are pulsing for him, begging me to let them live a little. Perhaps if Vince does get me out of this, it can be our little secret.
“We don’t have to actually have sex, Espie.” He smugly grins. “Then it wouldn’t technically count…”
My heart rate quickens somehow, though it’s already hurting my chest just with its speed. “Well, what would we do?”
He tugs at the top of my black thong, just where my hips connect with it, and I suck in my bottom lip, biting on it, so I don’t say anything to stop here. Slowly, he pulls it down, before rising to his feet and pressing me against the mirror. The sound of my breath is the only thing besides running water that occupies the space between us. His eyes toggle between mine, steady and unmoving.
He flicks a brow up. “You ready?” He whispers and I nod once. He cups his tattooed hand over my cheek gently kissing my lips, then chin, then jaw, sucking when he gets to the center of my neck. I gasp as his fingers find their way to the point of me most desiring his touch. I’ve never been touched before, not by anyone else.I’ve kissed, that’s it. Even his mouth on my throat is a foreign, delicious feeling, every brush of his lips tugging between my thighs.
So, I don’t know if it’s normal that my skin is burning, my depths longing for the sensation of him bringing me pleasure. It’s these strange, familiar and foreign feelings wrapped into a conundrum that makes me believe this moment was meant to happen all along. If this was our destiny, for him to hold me this way, then I’m fine with it just to forget what our reality really is.
I can’t even recall why I never wanted this in the first place. His lips on my throat are enough to make me forget. His fingers are brushing over the dark curls on my pussy now, sliding lower, grazing over my clit. I let out a small, whimpering yelp as his fingers press against it, rubbing softly, and I’m lost.
