And shefeelslike she’s meant to be my one and only.
Which is something I’ve never felt before.
Which is also probably why my soul is screaming it’s more than ready to take “fake it ‘til you make it” up to the penthouse level.
“Okay,” airily along with awkwardly slips past my lips, “uh…you want a quickie?”
“Maybe later in a bathroom,” she good naturedly giggles. “I haven’t done that shit since that biker back in Camelot.”
All my flabber instantly becomes gasted.
Did she really just fucking say that?!
Out loud?!
To me?!
“Kiss me,Imzadi,” she commands in a slightly more seductive tone. “Kiss me like I’m Troi and you’re Riker and we both would rather die a thousand deaths than live a minute longer without the other.”
Haste would need a neck brace over the speed at which my mouth descends hers.
From the first touch, possessiveness possesses my entire system.
Pushes me to run both sets of fingers up the nape of her neck.
Bury them in her thick locks.
Roughly pull her into me as my lips spread hers in a demand to prove the point she requested.
To guarantee that it’s not simply fulfilled but done to the point of no contest.
Granting my tongue permission to taste the sweetness lingering on hers unleashes a beast I didn’t even realize existed.
Banished is the poster boy of perfection I have to be in every boardroom, every conference call, every charity convention and in his place reins something much more primitive.
Almost feral.
Completely foreign.
Shy swirls swiftly shift into sharp, savage lashes determined to scribble my name across her heart.
Spirit.
Soul.
Soft whimpers slipping loose are attached to her manicured nails sliding underneath the edge of my t-shirt to latch onto my lower abs for support.
Stability.
Sanity.
Fuck.
Both?
It feels like both.
Ineedit to be both.
