He had to be ahe. Those hands. They were big in comparison to my arms. He was tall. Wide. A force. The strength of him engulfed me.
There was no doubt that this man was a hunter, but what side would he stand on? Would he kill for me, or make me his prey?
Please don’t hurt me. Please.
My knees started to knock together at the thought. At the memories I had suppressed for so long.
If I could’ve closed my eyes even tighter, I would have. I couldn’t. They were starting to cramp from the strain of trying to keep my shit together. The drink I had earlier was a small ember in the background, doing nothing to help ease the uncertainty of the moment. It added to it.
I forced myself to listen to reason, to think this through.Follow the line of his touch.It was firm but not hurtful, like his hands were not soft but not rough either. He was feeling me out. Tracing my lines. Memorizing them?
Even though I had no idea who he was, something about the way he touched me, taking his time, made me feel like he was looking for something that went deeper than flesh—a connection? A spark?
Maybe I was losing my mind, imagining that he was not only doing this for sex.
Or maybe it was wishful thinking.
His hands slowly came around my waist, and he pulled me into him, my back to his front. We sort of moved in time to the music, from side to side, until I relaxed enough to almost melt into the embrace. He seemed to know when I did. This time, his hands felt like they were burning through the fabric of the dress.
I inhaled, wanting to catch his scent, but…chocolate.Bingo, I thought. I was right. It was the reason why the entire place smelled strongly of the rich scent. He didn’t want me toknowhim, toseehim.
Maybe it was for the best. This would be over soon enough, and maybe I’d be set, and life would be better. I’d never see his face when I thought of the moment that changed everything. I’d only thinkchocolate.No strings to keep pulling me back into the fire.
Another breath trembled out of my mouth when one of his hands started to venture against my body. In the darkness, his touch reminded me of white lightning streaking across the night sky. The hair on my body stiffened, goosebumps puckered my skin, and something about the way he moved made me feel…pliable, like he could mold me into a shape to fit his.
My mind wanted to shut it out, go along with it,get it over with, but my body…it did something it had never before.
Responded.
My body started to shut my mind down, wanting, taking, wanting, taking. I willingly relaxed my hand so that he could hold it in the hand that had been searching my body. He entwined our fingers together, and in a move so smooth that it seemed perfectly timed, he turned me.
We must be facing each other.The candles are brightening my face and he’ll truly see me now.
Complete silence.
I waited. I waited. I waited. And waited some more.
What the hell?
Did he leave?
I was ashamed to think it, to feel it, but I craved his touch in the darkness. I wanted his hands on me again. I wanted to feel their soothing warmth. I wanted to feel that security again. The nothing behind the blindfold started to feel imposing. Unnerving.
In the darkness, I didn’t feel so wicked reacting to his touch.To him.
I lifted my hand, about to remove the blindfold, but hesitated. I knew once I did, the spell would be broken. He had set the scene and the tone. Made it ideal. Romantic even. Made it not so hard to think the words…I can handle this. Touch me again.
After another minute or two, I couldn’t handle the frantic beat of my heart, the uncertainty that started to creep in, and went to remove the mask.
He stopped me.
His hands were on me again, in my hair, and his mouth clashed against mine, so roughly that I knew my lip split open again. He had been drinking something spicy, with cinnamon, and it mixed with the iron coming in between our mouths.
At first, he was unstoppable. Not even the blood stopped him. His tongue tangled with mine, and it was starved. Starved like I had been for years. I could feel him, consuming in any way he could. For once, I was the one giving. Maybe that was why it didn’t feel entirely wrong.
The head on his shoulders, the body carried by the legs, the arms that reached out and touched, the physical, it didn’t seem to matter to me. He could look like an ogre, and for some reason,beautifulstill came to mind. I had met plenty of beautiful people, and their pretty only ran skin deep. But the people who were kind, the rare ones, they were the definition of true beauty.
Somewhere deep inside of my mind, I wondered if the fear of the last couple of hours,most of my life, had somehow caught up to me. My mind was taking a terrible situation and making it ideal so I could handle this.
