Fingertips | ✓

ten

My heart was still bashing against my ribcage when my lips met yours. I feared you'd pull away, mutter inexcusable excuses. You'd made a point of ignoring and avoiding me this past few weeks but you'd just admitted that you missed hanging out, indirectly telling me that you missed me and wanted me back so I took the chance of kissing you.

Righting the wrong.

That was all I was doing.

And when your lips moulded against mine, when you did not push away but simply sink into the comfort of the kiss, I knew I was right. It took only a second for the slow kiss to morph into something that held more fervency.

Your lips pushed and pulled against mine, the pressure causing shivers of pleasure to run down the length of my body. The hand that laid by your cheek slithered down your neck, slowing inching into the thin, blonde strands of your hair and eventually tugging it out of its bun. I grabbed into your hair, reeling you in for a hard kiss.

I wrapped myself around you, sliding into your lap with ease. I moved my hips against yours, the front of your jeans brushing down against mine. The little layers of clothes we had on now was itching to be removed but Bradley, I finally had you, and I was going to take my sweet time savouring this.

You pulled away, mumbling something incoherent but you were quick to silence when I slid my hand under your shirt, placed my bare hands on your bare skin and pushed myself towards you, claiming your lips yet again.

It was addicting, the feel of your lips against mine. The tingles that sparked through my body lit me up, causing some sort of wicked yet thrilling electricity to sharpen my senses.

Kissing you, having your body pressed flush against mine, had all my senses heightened.

This time when we pulled apart I didn't hear any mumbles of restraint so I breathed in deep, gathering myself as I closed my eyes and tried to calm my heart. But standing in your presence, or rather straddling you, it was hard to keep composure.

All I wanted to do-all I wanted you to do was to act on instinct, swing me in your arms and carry my to your bedroom. I wanted you to make sweet love to me, taking all the time you needed. We had forever, Bradley. We had forever, you and I, or so I thought.

I rested my forehead against yours and you blew out a big breath, tingling my face slightly with a welcoming warmth.

"What are we doing, Curry?" you asked, your voice rough and deep. I tried to ignore the regretful tone that underlined your voice. I was thinking too much. I just had to loosen up. You were enjoying yourself. So was I.

"Don't think about it," I said, tilting my head and grazing my lips across your cheek. "Just go with it. It feels amazing."

"But it's not right."

"It is," I said, my voice sultry but your words had managed to tick me off. As usual, with you, I quickly buried the emotion of annoyance under the mat.

"No, Curry," you said, your voice gaining a little more level as you began to slowly pull out of your haze, "It isn't right."

"It is, Brad," I reinforced, my voice aggressive this time as I placed my hands on your shoulder and shoved at them. You fell backwards, your back hitting the carpet in a matter of seconds. Before you could even think of getting in a word of restraint, I shifted my hips against yours and leant forward, placing my arms on either side of your head and meeting your lips with an anger that had been kindling inside of me all of those weeks. I kissed your hard. I took out my anger on you, the suffering I endured without you. I kissed you hard and fast, with an urgency like none before. I kissed you as if you were my air and I was dying. I needed you to survive.