OUR BROKEN BEGINNINGS

CHAPTER SIX

I placed the newly washed dishes on the rack on the other side of the sink and dried my hands on a cream-colored towel hanging off the dishwasher. Then, I turned and leaned back, with my hands behind me on the strip of white countertop in front of the sink.

The need to have his hands on me again thrummed through my bloodstream and blurred my rationality. I couldn't wrap my mind around this feeling—this need. I'd never experienced anything like it before, and although it confused me more than anything, it was also a thrill. A thrill that I wanted to explore, and I wasn't sure whether or not I should judge myself for that.

I ignored all my racing thoughts and acted on impulse. It only took a few steps to reach him; the smell of eucalyptus and pine invaded my senses and made me dizzy. His body twitched, and the hand wiping the counters halted when I placed my hands on the sides of his stomach. A wicked smile overtook my face when I felt his breathing become sharp.

"I'm not the only one affected. Am I, Emerson?"

He said nothing, but satisfaction seeped into me as I slowly rounded my hands around to the muscles on his abdomen, and he stopped breathing altogether.

I chuckled and walked away, leaving him alone in the kitchen. I couldn't wipe the satisfied smile off my face as I walked towards the living room, the large room directly behind the island's stools. I made my way to my bags placed on top of the couch and searched for my cell phone.

Before I could find it, I felt a large, soft yet rough hand on my wrist. It sent a shock through my arm and stopped my movements completely. Without looking up, I questioned the only person who could make my body react that way.

"Can I help you?"

He didn't answer me but simply moved his hand slowly up my bare arm. I knew my peaked nipples were showing through the thin gray t-shirt I wore, and I refused to acknowledge that he knew it too. I looked up at him and straightened my spine, gaining no advantage over his height. He placed the hand originally by his side on my other arm and turned me, so my entire body was facing him completely. I didn't take my eyes off his.

His chest rose and fell with each deep, heavy breath he took.

"Cassandra. You're killing me."

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the daze.

"I haven't done anything."

"Don't be coy with me. You know exactly what you're doing."

His thumbs moved in unison on both my arms, shooting a shock down my spine. I hated that I still had my hands by my side—giving him the advantage—so I lifted one of my hands and placed my index finger on the center of his chest. The hand previously on my arm, the one I lifted, slid away to rest on my waist.

He took a sharp breath and closed his eyes briefly. I welcomed the warm feeling that flowed through me after seeing my touch start to unravel him. I should have been terrified, but I didn't feel anything but exhilaration.

He spoke before I could. "Hmm... You're so competitive, Cassandra."

I moved my finger slowly down his chest. "What makes you say that?"

He chuckled quietly. "You always want the upper hand, always want to be one step ahead of me. You love winning your imaginary games."

I felt my cheeks heat, and I knew my embarrassment was evident on my face, but I didn't falter. I stepped into him until I felt my nipples brush against the bottom of his chest. The sensation between my legs was becoming harder to ignore. My index finger continued moving along the front of his body.

"Imaginary means it exists only in my mind, which means if these games were, in fact, imaginary, you wouldn't be aware of them," I shot my eyes up to his before continuing, "Want to know what I think?"