Kissing Danger ✔️

FORTY THREE

Word Count: 1919

*Mature Content Warning*

~Aven

I stare up at the ceiling, restless.

Since I was young, I've thought about my mate. I've wondered what he would be like, what his interests were and where he came from. Never could I have expected he would be anything like Stace. Yet here I am, having not accepted him, meaning there is no more running from our bond, pretending it doesn't exist.

But just because I've accepted it doesn't mean I'm not still frightened. I know he would never hurt me, and he has been nothing but kind and gentle with me...So why does he still scare me?

Maybe it's not even him that scares me. Maybe how I'm feeling is what scares me.

Getting to my feet, I start pacing.

I wish I could get him out of my head, but he's haunting me. Flashes of his dark eyes, staring back at me intensely as they trace the contours of my body. He knows he owns me, body and soul, and I own him. Just the thought of that could bring me to my knees.

With a huff, I collapse horizontally onto the bed, slapping a pillow down onto my face.

Maybe it's because I've never been in love, that I can't categorise these feelings into places in my mind that makes sense. It's likely why my body feels perpetually hot around him.

And even now, I'm flustered.

I'm attracted to him. I know that. And because I've been denying myself from him for long, I can't get him out of my head, especially when the doors close and the lights turn off at night.

My mind often strays back to that night on the train, as if does now. With the darkness of my eyes closed, I can see flashes of the memory. Places where he once kissed me burn at my skin, where he once touched me sending flutters up my spine.

I could march into his room right now and demand he entertain me for the night.

But would it be worth the cost of my dignity? Alternatively, I could just stay here, and entertain myself with the thought of him instead. That way he wouldn't have to know, and I wouldn't have to see the smirk on his face when he realised how much he has been affecting me.

Throwing the pillow off, I run my fingertips over my thighs, imagining that it isn't me touching my skin, but Stace.

I can just imagine his eyes, as black as night, watching me as his hands glide up my thighs, brushing my nightdress up over my hips. He has such large hands too, the sight of them vivid in my mind, tattooed in places. I never thought I could love tattoo's as I do, but the look them on Stace makes him even more mouth-watering.

My hands aren't my own as they reach the apex of my thighs, effortlessly gentle. The first touch of what I imagine are Stace's fingers against me has my back bowing off the bed, forcing me to bite down on my lower lip.

There is no confirming that this is better than what I could have had I been brave enough to seek Stace out, but it will do for tonight.

"Aven."

The sound of my name coming from the mouth of exactly who I didn't want to be seeing me right now has my eyes shooting open, shifting to the door, where a figure looms.

"Oh...oh no," I gasp, sitting up, wildly pulling my night gown down around my legs.

Stace holds his hands up defensively. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Every ounce of pleasure I was just enjoying has completely vanished from my body, leaving me hot and burning with a horrid mix of unanswered desire and embarrassment. Stace merely watches from the doorway, shadows playing along the fine contours of his face, gaze hooded. Whatever he is thinking, he has concealed it behind a calm mask.