The Choices We Make

Chapter 11 - Burned

There's this saying—"don't play with fire if you don't want to be burned". But maybe that's what I need.

To burn.

Be consumed by the flames of his touch until there's nothing left of me. No skin. No muscles. No heart.

Nothing left to feel. Because I can't afford to. Not with someone like Daniel. Someone who only wants me for my body and not my heart.

That thought alone should have me running in the opposite direction, but I gravitate to him instead. Like a moth to a flame. Hands deep in his rich velvety hair, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Lips moving in sync with the rapid beating of our hearts.

It's desperate and fervent and scorching. Nothing I've ever experienced before but all I've ever wanted.

Every brush of his lips against mine, every caress of his hands roaming my body, every groan of pleasure that he whispers in my ear. It lights my body on fire, unravels my nerves, puts a halt to any logical reasoning that's warning me to stop. To end things now before I get hurt.

But I want more. Need more.

My hands slide under his sweater, and I smile at his body's reaction to my touch—shivering as my palms slide over the dips and swells of his toned, heated skin. At least I know I'm not the only one being affected.

His lips, soft yet firm, latch onto the base of my neck, leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on my sensitive skin. A whimper escapes my swollen, throbbing lips as his teeth skim along its supple length.

His taste, his touch, his smell. It overwhelms me, suffocates me to the point that I can no longer breathe. My head is dizzy, stars gleam behind my closed eyelids, but I don't want to come up for air. Don't want to come down from this high.

Don't want to face the reality that this will probably be the first and last time I'll allow myself to indulge in such pleasure. Because the moment I pressed my lips to his, the moment I let my hair down for him to climb up to the tower encaging my heart, was the moment I screwed things up. For all of us.

Nothing but the sound of our heavy breathing and pounding hearts fill the air. He leans his forehead against mine and my breath hitches, heart fluttering in my chest at how dark and heated his eyes are. How he's looking at me like a honeybee drawn to the scent of the prettiest flower with the tastiest pollen in a field of wild blossoms.

I know that look all too well. It's the same way I look at Matt. But how could he? When he knew little to nothing about me, and I about him.

"Beautiful."

The word slips from his lips. Raspy and raw and it settles itself in the cracks of my heart.

Lust. It has to be.

But even so, I like how it makes me feel. The feeling that I could possibly satisfy his desires. That I could be enough for him.

When you've spent what feels like your entire life, constantly being overlooked and rejected by the boy you love, it tears you apart, rips you of all self-esteem. Makes you feel like you aren't good enough, pretty enough. Incapable of ever being loved.

So even if it is just lust shinning in those beautiful swirls of cinnamon and sage as he takes his sweet time drinking in my flustered and disheveled appearance, I'll take it.

Thousands of tiny goosebumps explode across my skin, his fingers slowly traveling along the length of my spine then digging into my fleshy hips. He gently tugs at the bottom of my shirt, eyes begging for permission.

This is it. This is where I should draw the line, but my hands have other plans. They begin to pull the loose black fabric up my body, ready and willing to let him have his way with me. To go all the way with a boy I hardly know. But a slam of a car door, like a slap to the face, has me scampering off of Daniel's lap and yanking my shirt over my exposed midriff.