Writer's Note: I haven't forgotten about Redemption, I promise. ;) I've had this little drabble idea in the back of my head for a while, so I decided to go ahead and finally do it. I will be posting the next chapter of Redemption soon.
I pause with my hand on the kettle, turn the water off, turn my head to look at her.
"I know that we've said a lot of things to each other, and you've made promises to me about…"
What is she talking about? I turn about fully.
"I just want you to know I'm not going to hold you to them." She nods, eyes wide, face stricken, a permanent kind of stricken that I want to make temporary again. I start towards her. I'll hold her again. I want to.
"It's been a terrible day, and I know we say things in the moment –"
"– and I just, I don't want you to –"
But, I want to.
I hadn't planned on kissing her, but when I cup her cheek, first one and then the other, I'm falling in and I press my lips against hers. And again. And then I have to do it again, because she responds – lips, tongue – so faintly, and her hands come up to graze my arms but she can't keep them there long. She can't because I'm pushing into her, pressing her against the bookcase. I grab the shelf behind her with one hand because I'll fall if I don't, I'm so intoxicated with her.
I hadn't planned on seducing her, but she runs her hands through my hair, over my ear, down my shoulder, around my neck, and I feel her body, her back under my palms, her breasts and belly against my torso and she's so warm and she starts to shake just slightly. I run my hand down her back, down her thigh, behind her knee and hoist her up.
She wraps her legs around me tightly and I keep kissing her, deeply, lips crushing and tongues brushing, twisting, curling. Our breaths are shorter, our hearts are drumming, our blood is racing and god, this is perfect.
I walk her to my bedroom. I can't think, I can barely breathe, but I can feel, and she feels so right. But this could be wrong. This could be wrong for her. She kept talking ridiculously but maybe she was trying to get out of it, get away from me. I don't want to believe it, but I lower her down anyway, reluctantly.
Her feet touch the floor, the toes of her boots touching the toes of mine. I pull back to ask her if this is what she wants, if she's sure, if this is okay, and her eyes open, half-lidded, and she breathes, "Jack."
It undoes me. I groan back into her mouth and slip my hands under her shirt. She slips her hands under mine.
I wasn't going to help Victor today, but I'm glad I did.