I knew the moment I first kissed him, that he would condemn me, that I would drag myself through broken glass for him. I just was not sure if he would stay long enough to pull the jagged pieces out.
I never imagined that instead, he would push the...
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Feverish. That was the word to describe my state.
I felt like a burning match, being consumed, eaten by the desire that was setting my body aflame every time he would touch his skin against mine. His hands were everywhere, leaving their imprint on my body. What I was doing was disturbingly wrong, yet it felt sinfully good when he kissed me as if nothing else held more importance than our craving for each other. Perhaps we just were attracted to things that were bad for us, like galaxies merging together only to cause destruction and chaos in their wake.
His lips were on mine, rough and demanding. His hand circled around the back of my neck until he grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled it, tilting my head up forcefully. He found the strength to pull away from me, having gained some semblance of self-control. I opened my eyes to look up at his onyx-coloured ones, which were darkened to the point where his irises were not seen. "If you think a kiss will make me detest you any less, you are wrong. If anything, it made me hate you impossibly more." His breath fanned my lips as he panted. "For making me feel in this manner." He whispered into the air between us, lips brushing against my own as he spoke.
"And what manner is that?" I asked him, just as breathless, just as lust-ridden.
"The kind that makes me want to unravel you." He confessed, and then pulled harder on my hair. Salazar, the pain had never felt so good in my life.
I was powerless to stop the agonizing pleasure igniting my nerves.
I was also powerless to stop the door from bursting open.
We tore away from each other's hold as if we had been burnt, and I turned towards the bookshelf to hide my flushed face and dishevelled appearance. I attempted to brush through my hair with my fingers and adjust my dress.
"Lestrange," Tom spoke, voice still hoarse.
"My apologies, my l— Riddle. I only wished to find peace of mind in the library, away from the crowd." Lestrange informed, covering up his slip up with a cough that did not escape my attention. The ball must not have been his scene, since it was common knowledge that Lestrange avoided socialising and mingling with others unless necessary. With a deep inhale, I finally mustered up enough courage to face him and upon looking at me, Lestrange's eyes filled with poorly concealed dislike. "I will leave you to your own matters." He bowed his head.
I held my hand to stop him. "There will be no need for that. I shall rejoin the festivities." I said with a tight smile, moving to slip out of the room without so much as a glance back at the man I had just kissed.
