Fleeting.
None of this was supposed to happen—not the tenderness, not the vulnerability or thiscloseness. Tangled here together felt too natural, too easy. As if our bodies already knew the rhythm, the unspoken dance, of being this intertwined... this comfortable with each other.
When was the casualness supposed to take over?
When was I supposed to feel the need to pull away and disentangle myself before I got caught up in the all too many emotions swirling inside me?
Retreat to the bathroom and lick the wounds that were starting to form around my heart.
I traced the edge of his hairline absently, brushing my fingers over the faint wrinkles etched into his temple. Lines born from stress, from long nights and harder days, from carrying burdens he never shared aloud or whatever horrible tragedies he witnessed coming in off of those gurneys.
Much like mine had been.
Silas never talked much about himself, never seemed like the type of person to let people in that easily. And yet here he was, wrapped around me like I was the anchor that tethered him.
A part of me was desperate to find out where the lines in the sand blurred between us. Where we both stood now that it seemed we were both neck deep in the deep end of things.
I wanted to know more. To dig down deep and pull out the pieces of him that hardly ever saw the light. Get to know what was behind those steel, reinforced walls. To know the person underneath that even his friends didn’t.
A dreary overcast morning awaited us outside of the warm confines of this bed. No doubt cold and windy like the weather app predicted earlier in the week. The perfect backdrop to spending the rest of the day indoors together, curled up doing...
What exactly?
Sex obviously.
But what came after that?
My heart, the traitorous thing it was, hoped for something else.
Somethingmore.
Would he... want that, too?
His breathing shifted before his body did, the steady rhythm breaking as he drew in a deep inhale and shifted his weight slightly.
I froze, unsure if I wanted to pretend to be asleep before he noticed I was already awake and ten minutes deep into my existential crisis, or actually face the music that I was right on the edge of starting that dreaded ‘what are we?’conversation.
My face suddenly filled with heat and I knew I flushed in embarrassment.
His reaction to me poking fun at his aversion to feelings last night was stark proof that any kind of conversation that revolved around trying to figure out a label for this was a no-go. I was a masochist to a fault, but I wasn’tthatmuch of a glutton for punishment.
He kept you this long, though,that fickle, lovesick part of me whispered.He came back for more.
Plus... the way he’d fucked me last night.
Whatwasthat?
He’d stripped me bare. Barely given my panties a glance before tossing them like the rest of my clothing. I’d worn nothing to entice him—nothing to drive him mad into a frenzy of lust and desire like the last time. None of that stopped him from pulling me close. Pressing himself against me and holding me until I wasn’t sure where either of us ended.
I swallowed thickly.
It almost felt like body worship. Like he’d... like we’d?—
“Awake already,” he murmured, his voice gravely and rough with sleep still clinging to it.
Instead of moving away from me, he tightened his arm around my waist, almost as if reluctant to let go. I felt his head tilt, the soft bristle of his stubble grazing along my collarbone before a soft sigh ghosted against my skin.
I hesitated in answering, my fingers still buried in his hair.
