⚠️ MATURE CONTENT ⚠️
Shirtless in front of Lucy, Tim stepped toward her slowly. The tension was palpable on both sides. Their eyes spoke more than their mouths ever could. And as he took one final step, Lucy realized they were both thinking the same thing.
"We shouldn't," she said, aware that her eyes and body were screaming the opposite.
"I know," he replied, fully conscious that he knew nothing, that he was no longer in control.
Lucy hesitated for the briefest moment, and though her mind told her no, her body betrayed her once again. She moved toward him, stopping just inches from his lips. Oh, how strong the temptation was—to close the distance, to give in to the longing that had been building for weeks. Just millimeters away from becoming one. His hand rested on her waist, their breaths were shallow, their hearts racing. Everything was there. Everything. The longing, the desire, the love... everything. What might seem like a cry from the body was, in truth, a cry from the heart.
"We shouldn't," she repeated, her lips brushing against his unintentionally.
And as if she had suddenly come to her senses, Lucy pulled away. Without a word, she placed the bandage she had been holding on his neck, looked at him one last time, and left the room.
Later.
Perched on his kitchen counter, Tim poured himself another glass of rum, replaying the events of the evening in his mind. Long before he heard the knocks on his front door, Kojo had barked. Tim ordered the dog to stay put and walked over to open the door, wondering who could be bothering him this late.
When he opened it, he was struck with a sense of déjà vu. Lucy was standing there, in the same dress as earlier—stunning.
And before he could say a word, Lucy slipped past him and entered. Scanning the room quickly, she placed her bag on the counter, poured herself a drink, downed it in one swift motion, then set the glass back down, resting both hands on the counter.
"When I said "we shouldn't"..."
Tim stepped closer, stopping just inches behind her. Lucy turned, bringing them face-to-face.
"I meant not now, not here," she said, placing a hand on his chest. "Kiss me..." she added.
Tim cupped her face in his hands before leaning in to kiss her. Kissing her as if tomorrow didn't exist, Lucy couldn't hold back a soft moan. Oh, how she had missed this feeling. Her hands gripped his shirt, her fingers slipping between the buttons to brush against his skin. The touch was brief but intense. He kissed her for long minutes, forgetting where they were, forgetting the past, the present—but certainly not the future.
Tim let his hands slide from her face, down her shoulders and arms, sending shivers through her body, until they reached her wrists. With a steady motion, he placed Lucy's hands flat on the counter, making her smile as memories of all the times he had done the same flooded back.
Tim pulled away just enough to admire her, taking her in like something precious. His lips trailed over her face, brushing against her cheek before finding her earlobe—one of her weaknesses. Then, they traveled down her neck, each touch igniting something deep inside her.
One of his hands lingered on her dress, his fingers tracing the line of her neckline, barely skimming the skin of her chest like a whisper of a caress. He continued downward, toying with the knot of her dress. Not yet. Not now. His hand ventured further, slipping beneath the fabric, making contact with the soft skin of her thigh. Lucy lost control of her own reactions, her head tilting back as another moan escaped her lips.
