The Segment (Completed)

36. The Sight of You in My Clothes

(unedited)

Farrah awoke with a jolt, her eyes snapping open; her body on alert. It was quiet in the room. And she was alone in the vast bed. Quickly she looked for her phone and heaved a sigh of relief as she saw that she still had a few more hours to go before catching the flight home. Thank God, for late evening flights. She sank back into the plush pillows and inhaled deeply. She could pick up the faint smell of cinnamon in the pillow. Richard, she thought and smiled but that smile slowly faded.

For a room that was furnished luxuriously, it seemed decidedly empty. Did Richard already pack?, she thought to herself frowning. She sat up and eyed her wrinkled T- shirt in distaste. God, I must look a mess, she mused. The outfit that she had on was supposed to be her airport attire. And now she had no clean tops left to wear for the flight home.

With slow movements she stretched her arms over her head, her eyes drinking in every detail of the bedroom. Her eyes fell on the huge double doors which she was sure was the closet. Drumming her fingers on the bed, she decided to take a peek in there. Who knows what she might find in there.

As she stood up, her body felt achy and warm. She rubbed her neck slowly and her skin prickled with goosebumps. That's odd, she thought.

***

Richard had woken up aching; his head was pounding, his eyes felt swollen, his joints felt sore. It felt like every single part of his body was in some form of pain but he had never felt as content as he did in that moment.

Farrah was fast asleep in his arms.

They were both sharing a pillow as he curved into her, spooning her. His left arm was bent cushioning his head as his right was wrapped around her body, with her hand resting atop his. He released a heavy breath as he remembered the last few hours. The crying, the holding onto to her, that feeling of drowning, the humiliation, the desperation; he felt nauseated with shame. He couldn't believe he let himself get so weak. Especially in front of her.

He gently tried to remove his arm from around her body, but for every inch he moved away, Farrah wiggled closer to him. He bit back a groan as she wiggled into his groin. He stopped moving, his hand now resting on her hip, his breathing slightly laboured. The stubble along his jaw brushed lightly against her nape and he heard Farrah humming softly in her sleep. He didn't know if he should laugh or cry, at that very moment.

His heart was pounding as he flatted his palms as he dragged it along her hips around her waist pulling her closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her skin under his hand as he nuzzled into her neck. He heard her humming again in her sleep as he hugged her close to him, wrapping her in his arms possessively. He trailed his nose gently against the length of her neck and he heard a small sigh escape her lips. Pressing her closer to his body he left chaste kisses on the expanse of her neck and shoulder, as another sigh fell from her lips he felt himself harden against her. It was like someone had lit a match, and he had caught on fire. His nerve endings were alive and sparking against the friction of Farrah's body in his arms. Unwittingly he bucked into her and let out a soft muffled groan.

What the hell am I doing?, he thought frantically as he tried to shuffle away, arousal was coursing through his veins. She's asleep, for God's sake!

He breathed deeply for a few seconds before sliding his arms from underneath her. Rolling over to the other side, Richard sat up. And looked over to where Farrah lay and released a shuddered breath. She had scooted back a little bit more and burrowed her face into the pillow. She was, in her sleep, looking for his warmth.

***

Richard walked into the bedroom and was arrested by the glimpse of warm caramel like skin. With her back to him Farrah was putting on a shirt, his shirt, and her skin looked damp like she had just taken a warm shower. He swallowed, as his eyes took in the sight of her wearing his shirt.

As she was rolling the sleeve of the shirt up she slowly turned around and released a small shriek when she saw him. She slapped her hand on her mouth and broke out in giggles when she realized that it was Richard, her eyes twinkling with mirth. She looked so open to him, like she had stopped holding back from him. 

"Sorry, I didn't realise you were in the room," she said to him in between fits of giggles.

He didn't realise his feet were taking him to her until he was standing right in front of her. She was looking up at him, uncertainty written in her eyes. His heart pounding as he felt blood rushing through his veins. Somehow, his hands found its way on her body; one tangled in her hair as it uncoiled the bun she had made and the other resting on her waist.

He lowered his head to the crook of her neck and dragged his nose against her warm skin, inhaling deeply. "You smell so good, love," he mumbled against her skin. He could feel her trembling under his fingertips.

"Richard, what are you doing?" she rasped out.

"Richard, huh? Not 'baby' anymore?" he murmured as he tugged on her hair, tilting her face towards him.

"I – I...," she inhaled sharply, her words lost to her as Richard tugged on her earlobe with his teeth.

"You have no idea, what the sight of you dressed in my clothes is doing to me," he ground out. The hand that was on her waist started moving, a firm pressure rubbing circles on her hip bone then it slowly glided up her waist trailing warmth as it brushed against the side of her breast. His hand journeyed lower again as it cupped her bum and pulled her closer, pressing her firmly against his arousal.

And that's when the spell broke.

***

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