She's The Artist

| Chapter 37: From Want to Need |

                                  { PLEASE LISTEN TO SONG AT THE TOP WILL MARK THE PART }

                                   WARNING: MUTURE CONTECT, SWEARING, DEATH, PANIC ATTACK

♫ ♪ ♫

When I said Ethan and me are a mess, we are. Or, we did make a mess. Of the bed. That we haven't left, for the whole day.

If this is the one time, I'm letting myself have something I can't have, I'm going full in.

I'm guessing Ethan is thinking the same. Only for the past couple of months have I not only rejected him, showed my hate for him, and ran away multiple times, but have given him mixed signals.

Kissing him. Then, Running away. Letting him trap me. Then physically pushing him and yelling in his face.

Wow, I am hard to get.

But right now, all I can really think about is the way his hands are moving up my body. To my hips, to my waist, then all the way up to my neck.

I'm on his lap, letting him touch me. Letting myself feel his touch. The way his hands move with the softest touch, but still rough. The way they roam. The traces of longing and desire that are left in its wake. The marks that are forever placed where he left them. It's something I've never felt before.

But my favourite part? The way his eyes say everything. How they speak with so much emotion, so much need, that he might just lose control at any moment.

Control of what? I have no clue. But that's not what matters right now.

All that matters is that right now, I need him.

"Ethan." I pant, needing him to do more they just touch me. I need need him.

All it takes is for him to look at me. See my desire for him, see the want.

He laughs. Laughs.

"After the whole day, you're still wanting more, White?"

God, the accent if his.

I can't help but pant more. Once we started it was too hard to stop. More, to say stop to him. He is a living, breathing, God. I'm sure of it.

I can't seem to get the words out of my mouth, or I can't seem to work my mouth at all. The heat that his body gives, the way his hands are on me, are stopping my brain from working properly.

He sees my struggle, and a flash of amusement coats his eyes. But as soon as it came, it went; replaced by desire and the need that him and I share.

The one that is keeping us in this bed.

Because as soon as the fire is out, it's back to reality. Back to needing to hate him. Needing to stay away from him. To avoiding him and maybe even leaving this city to make sure that happens.

When I shared with him who I really was, who I really am, that is a onetime thing. No one makes me break like how he made me break last night. And that's why once the fire is out, it's out.

So that's why I roll my hips and show him what I want, the words I can't say. Being too scared to voice them.

That's why I let my hands roam his body, tracing his tattoo's, voicing my need to say the words I won't let myself say.

That's why I place kisses on his chest, his neck, his jaw, and everywhere I can to express how long I've been denying myself this.

I let my body talk instead of my mouth. Because for once, I'm listening to my heart and living my life like I promised Jack I would do.