The Moon Is Beautiful

Chapter 5

He looks exactly the same.

Those chocolate brown eyes, thick black hair, even the scar on his left cheek looks the same. He hasn't changed at all. And neither has his smile.

I can barely think straight. This scene feels so familiar. Even the way he holds me now, gripping my hips with his hands feels the same as that time. It's as if nothing has changed. It's as if by some miracle, we have been taken back to that time, back to that night. I don't know what to do. He feels familiar and warm. His touch feels familiar and warm. Why does it feel like something has slotted into my heart, something that was missing before.

My hand raises in the air and the moment my fingers touch his skin, a jolt of electricity courses throughout that spot and throughout my entire body, almost like a chain reaction, and I can only describe it as one thing.

Sparks.

I trail my fingers across his cheek, stopping when they touch his scar. It's tiny; a small diagonal line that doesn't go in deep, but it's still visible to the eye. I rub my thumb over the scar and it's as if a shudder goes through his entire body. I feel it. And then my fingers trail downwards, to his lips, his plump pink lips. The moment I touch them, I'm reminded of that night. They feel exactly the same. Would they still feel the same against mine?

His eyes travel down my body, just like they did that night before coming up again, and meeting mine. His gaze is intense, making me visibly shiver. It's as if I've been put into a trance, a trance caused by him, a trance that is making me think of doing sinful things to him. I can hardly control my own thoughts, feelings and desires.

Things feel heated and my eyes find his lips, drawn to them like a moth to a flame. And then as if he can't control himself, his hand delves into my hair, pulling my face impossibly close to his.

"You want me." he says. He doesn't sound conceited, but rather certain of himself, as if he can sense how I feel. Do I make it that obvious?

"You want me too." I dare say. I'm not sure if he feels even half of the attraction I feel to him. I'm just taking my chances right now.

"I do." he admits, surprising me. I want to think otherwise, but the moment I see the look in his eyes, the look so familiar to that night, I realize that it's true. Just like that night, he wants me tonight too.

I want to kiss him.

I want to kiss him so badly. He's so close, yet so far away. The tension between us is heavy, almost suffocating to anyone around us. I don't even care if Eliza and Alyssa is seeing this. My mind is too filled with him.

He leans in closer, the brush of his lips against mine making me shiver. He smiles at the reaction, seeming pleased by it.

"You're too intoxicating, Belle." he murmurs against my lips. The way he teases me, he's daring me to kiss him first. He's daring me to close this tiny space between us and put us both out of our misery. It's tempting.

"Touch me. I know you want to." he says. I smile.

"You do too." I say and his eyes flash with mischief.

"You're right," he admits. "I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you."

The bluntness of his words surprises me, and it's evident to him when my body moves back slightly. Those words, he said them to me before. And when he smiles a cheeky smile, I realize. He did it on purpose.

"You're too honest." I say after regaining my composure.

He leans down, his lips brushing my ear. "When I want someone, I let them know."

His words sends an excited sensation through my body, and losing any self-control I had left, I wrap my hand around the back of his head and pull him closer, inevitably closing the distance between us until our lips finally touch, putting me out of my misery. He responds almost immediately, gripping the back of my neck in a way that tells me he wants to claim me. It feels the same, the softness of his lips, and the precision of his tongue. I nearly fall when his tongue touches mine in a way that only his has before, but he's quick to catch me, using this as chance to push us impossibly closer together.

I deepen the kiss, wanting more of him, much more. He seems to feel the same way from the way he grips the hem of my skirt, as if he wants it off.

And then suddenly, images of that night flashes before my eyes, images of waking up with him gone and of him leaving without a word. This has me pulling away from him and pushing at his chest with my hands, desperate to get him off me.

He looks surprised by my actions, whereas I feel like I want to cry. Why did I just do that? After everything that happened between us before, how could I dare kiss him? How could I dare let him touch me like that again?

I feel sick. He opens his mouth to say something, but I quickly push past him and rush out of the club. The moment I am outside, I fall against the wall of an empty alleyway. I slide down the wall, my energy draining out of my body. I run my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

I'm so stupid. I thought that I am better than this, but clearly I'm not. I'm so weak. Before I even realize it, a tear rolls down my cheek and I bury my face in my legs, hugging my knees to my chest.

I don't want to see him.

I need to get out of here. Now.