Chef's Kiss

Magnetism

Violet

Pushing the door shut, the music blaring through the house was immediately muffled, and we were thrust into a tiny little universe of our own, just Chris and I. He moved to the sink and I hopped onto the counter, leaning back against the mirror and crossing my legs, watching him.

God he was beautiful. His side profile was perfect. Everything about him was handsome. The slope of his nose, the puffiness of his lips, the strands of his dark hair sticking out in random directions from under his white beanie. He pulled it off then, just as I was admiring him, and ran a hand through his hair, further messing it up yet simultaneously making himself look even better.

"You know I don't need help, I'm just cleaning my shirt," he said, almost bashfully, turning on the tap.

"I know," I admitted. "I want a break from the noise." I tilted my head at him as I watched him try to get water from the tap up to his chest on the beer marks. "You're gunna get water all over yourself that way," I pointed out.

He imitated me like a little kid would, saying my words back in a childish voice, "You're gunna get water all over yourself." He smiled. "Know it all."

"You have to take your shirt off," I said, feeling a little brave and wondering if he'd actually do it.

"Oh I bet you'd love that," he teased as he looked at me, all playfulness.

"Oh I bet I would," I replied, feeling my heart skip a beat at my choice of reply. He raised his eyebrows then, nodded his head and found himself tongue tied. I laughed lightly at our little interaction. "But you really should take it off so you can clean it properly." I'm not ashamed to admit I was speaking out of sheer optimism.

He looked at me briefly before reaching for the collar behind his neck, pulling his shirt up and over his head. Holy fuck he did it. Inside, I giggled and clapped like a fucking schoolgirl at my little win.

"Okay now your turn," he joked and I dropped my jaw out of sheer dramatics.

"Chris!" I exclaimed, sitting up to smack his bare shoulder.

I leaned back against the mirror again, swinging my crossed leg, drawing attention to them and crossing my arms. "I bet you'd love that." I echoed back at him, flirting and cocking an eyebrow.

He glanced up at me as he carefully rinsed his shirt under the tap.

"Oh I know I would," he came back with and fuck if that didn't absolutely flood me with desire.

I sat up and leaned towards him, running my eyes along his body, admiring his arms, his shoulders, his chest. He saw me move closer, he knew I was looking at him, and he let me do it. Standing before me, shirtless, vulnerable, just us two, the music thudding beyond the walls.

I knew what was happening was risky. I knew what I was doing was reckless and careless and possibly going to result in fucking terrible consequences. But sharing that small space, our close proximity...the temptation was too strong to resist. I felt my body responding to his. I felt his magnetism pulling me in, and I felt him drawing towards me too. Something connected us, some deep attraction that was beyond words and reason, something primal and basic. It pushed our bodies closer, wrapping itself around our instincts, forcing us to close the gaps between us. It didn't matter if it was rational, it didn't matter if it was dangerous. Our attraction was taking on a life of its own, and I wanted nothing more than to let go and let it take control. So I did.