Can't get you out of my head.

Chapter 5

THIS ONE IS A BIG ONE.

He'd chosen to sit next to you - not as close as possible, but not all the way on the other end of the couch, either. It would be so easy to take his hand.

You shook your head to clear it.
"You okay?" you asked instead, noticing a faraway look in his eye.

"Yeah, I just" he hesitated and swished the liquid around in the tumbler, ice clinking against the glass again, like you'd  been doing back at the office. Something was still making him deeply anxious. You could see it before he even spoke his next words, "He just winds me up, makes me feel like I should quit."

"How can I help?" you asked gently, thinking to yourself that there was probably nothing that you wouldn't do for this man. You watched as he turned himself to look at you.

"Make me laugh." He said with a smirk. You smirked longer than him.

Challenge accepted.

"Did you know that I once got my finger stuck in a vending machine?"

"You what?" He said as he looked to you.

"Yeah. It got caught in the coin return. Firefighters ended up having to destroy the machine with the jaws of life to get me out."

He didn't giggle, but the corners of his lips turned up. He was smiling. "How old were you, five?"

"Eighteen, actually. It was the start of the second year of college."

"What'd you, have the munchies or something?"

"Something like that."

He did laugh then, and you didn't even know your heart had been weighed down until it suddenly felt ten times lighter. So, for the next hour, you distracted him with stories from university and college. You prodded and got him to confess to a few of his own worst college moments, including the time he'd drunkenly thrown up all over the train on the ride home. ("Please, Keir," you commented, "Who hasn't done that?") After a while it was about whether or not you could actually cook (you insisted that you could make a mean Spaghetti Carbonara; he didn't believe you; you refrained from offering to cook it for him. "I know, I know I bought meals for one but I needed something quick. It was a late night."

The bottle of alcohol grew emptier and emptier as you talked, the shadows were effectively chased from both of your eyes, replaced by mirth and light. His lips tinged with a smile and he seemed...happier. Meanwhile, you were pleasantly buzzed and warm from something that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the sound of his laughter.

It was almost midnight when he shifted, having sat in the same position on the couch for a long time. He stretched his arms out in front of himself in what began as an innocent wiggle but, in his semi-tipsy state, ended with him accidentally hitting you.

You don't know what made you do it.

Well that's a lie.

You caught his hand and held it in place before you were even aware of what you were doing. It was an instinct to apologise from him, "sorry," he apologized immediately, attempting to withdraw his hand. His eyes widened when you held tight and he soon realized that you weren't going to let it go. You looked into them for a moment, brown orbs shimmering with content from your conversation and a little bit of surprise at your actions. Instead of letting go, you tugged gently, bringing him closer, and watched his eyes darken and flicker with...something else.

That's when you did it. You slid your hand up his arm, up his shoulder pulling him closer until his eyelids fluttered shut and  hands rested themselves on you, you moved your hair from your face and your breath hitched on an inhale just before

...you kissed him.

...he kissed you.

...you kissed each other.

Soft. Sweet. Just lips brushing, tentatively tasting.

It was like being thrown underwater. He was the ocean, dragging you under. The embers that smoldered in the pit of your stomach whenever you were near him became a full on blaze, heating your skin and constricting your lungs as you drowned in the way he smelled, the way she tasted. You couldn't think, you couldn't breathe, you could only kiss this man like he held your dying breath. As you kissed he roamed his hand over your torso, freely skimming over your breasts, your stomach, your waist

When you tore your lips away from his, desperate for air, you hardly had a second to before he rose up on his feet and held out his hand. You took it and you realised it was to give him the advantage now. You didn't understand why but he pulled you to the wall, "Keir" you murmured into him. For a man who seems so sweet he has a very different attitude to the sexual aspect of his life as you to find out. He began dragging those amazing lips of his across your jaw, down the column of your neck, pressing his tongue against your skin and nibbling here and there as he pleased.