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But for now, at this moment, I can forget about all of that. I can just be here, dancing with her, lost in the music and the way her body moves. Every touch, every brush of her loveliness against me, sends sparks flying through me. We move through the music, carried by the song and the unspoken communication of our bodies.
And suddenly, the mission feels like a distant memory; all I can think about is her, and how much I want her.
The night wears on; the music changes to a faster tempo, and we keep dancing. Sweat beads on my forehead, my heart pounds in my chest, but I refuse to let go of her. Not yet. Never.
Then there's a pause, a brief second of silence in a song that has us holding each other tight, grinding our bodies against one another in rhythm. Her dress is so thin, I can feel and see every inch of her through the fabric; there's sweat on her forehead; she smells like exertion, like secret joy, like desire she can't contain.
I'm breaking again. Breaking, though I know I can't.
In that pause, she says, "When I was younger, I used to dream about doing this with you. It doesn't feel the same now, but I have a favor to ask."
Guilt hits me again. Knowing how I've hurt her, there's nothing I wouldn't agree to in order to bring a little bit of joy to her night.
"Anything," I murmur.
I'd kill for her.
I'd die for her.
Whatever she asks.
"I know this song. In just a second, there's going to be this perfect moment... will you dip me? I always dreamed about you dipping me on a night like this, under the stars, with music, with us dressed this way..."
"I will."
That moment comes, and just as she asks, I dip her.
Her body extends, stretches against the confines of her tight dress, revealing everything I’ve ever wanted beneath a nearly see-through layer of fabric. Her chest rises and falls in exertion, her eyes shine back a lusty challenge that ignites an inferno inside me.
The fire in her eyes draws me in.
I raise her, pull her to my chest. To whisper to her that, no matter how hard she tries, she will not break me. Loyalty is part of who I am. I'm defined by it. I've left part of who I am bleeding out in the sand in defense of it.
I won't be broken.
But as I bring her up to me to answer her challenge, her eyes lock with mine and her lips purse slightly.
And meet mine.
The kiss is fiery and passionate, all-consuming and all-encompassing. It captures me, irresistible. It's like a dam breaks inside me, and all the emotions I've been holding back for so long come rushing to the surface. All the desire, the longing, the need for her that I've been suppressing, all of it is now out in the open and rushing forth beyond control.
I kiss her back with ferocity, my hands moving to grip her waist, pulling her closer to my body. The curve of her hips grind against mine, the heat of her skin sears me, burning the last of my resistance, and I know that I'm lost. Lost to her, to the way she makes me feel, to the way I've always felt about her but never allowed myself to acknowledge.
The kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, hungry. I should stop, I should pull away, but I can't control myself.
Not when she kisses me like this.
Not when I can feel her heart racing against my chest; not when her breath comes in quick gasps released into my mouth between fervent kisses; not when her body pulses against mine with desperate need.
Not when I want her more than anything else in the world.
So I keep kissing her, keep holding her, keep giving in to the passion that burns between us. And as we stand surrounded by a crowd that we ignore, by music that we don't hear, we devour each other with all the intensity that we've fought for so long to contain.
Until a new sound hits my ears: silence.
And a hand taps me on the shoulder.
First gentle, then harder. And harder still.
