She first remembered heat. (Burning flashing) She was drowning, soaking in pure bliss. The ecstasy was only heightened by the sweet sourness of doing something so wrong. (Sinfully right)
For one so cold, she marveled that his skin could be so hot to the touch, the feeling of his breath on her neck, the soft gasps and murmurs. (Need and want)
It was lust.
But the burning she felt when she saw him (naked raw heat) was only surpassed by the feeling in her chest. Her shortness of breath and the tightness in her throat were not due entirely to his expert (who else, she hated them all) ministrations.
She buttoned her blouse with fingers that still trembled, watched him smirk as he collected his clothes. It was all his fault. (Temptation)
Gazing at him, she felt that birth and destruction, the thesis and antithesis of who she was. (Liquid grey)
She feebly stood and walked past him, feeling his penetrating gaze, fighting the urge to leap onto him again and give in. (Oblivion)
Numerous trysts, countless, voiceless, emotionless. They never spoke, and she never cried. (Burning hot)
As she approached him, she knew that this time, it was different. She was ensnared (Sticky sweet) and the spider was claiming his prize.
His sultry voice wrapped around her, telling her the things she needed and feared, bled for. She knew that once they were said, she would be destroyed. (Passion and betrayal)
Fairy tales weren't real. Neither were angels.
Later, when they were temporarily satiated (addiction) she knew what she had to do. Before he did it first
She met his eyes and recognized the same emotions. (Confusion, panic, pain…need)
The seductive sound of wood against silk echoed quietly (Rustling) as they simultaneously drew their wands.
He drew her closer to him and she pressed into oblivion.
Two words, enveloping their entwined bodies.
All she knew was cold.