The Makeover

18 | Putto and His Bow

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Chapter Eighteen | Putto and His Bow

Have you ever had this feeling that maybe, your heart might as well just rip out of your chest?

Have you ever looked around so much, for the missing piece of a puzzle that it got you so confused and hit with a migraine, and then you just sigh and decide to give up, but then; something makes a click! sound in your brain, and you find it. You find the missing part and then a big smile just appears on your face. Have you ever?

You know, I've been thinking. There are quite a lot of types of moment in life. The ones that are so dreadful that they have the ability to make you think back and doubt the purpose of your life.

And then there's the ones that happened; and because they did, your life is a huge mess. And then there's the insignificant ones that without them happening, your life would still be that mess it was. Then there's The Most Beautiful Moments In Life. They might just occur in one insane split second or minute but they're the ones you'll give up everything to remain in.

This was exactly how I felt, dancing with Haze.

In spite of the fact that we were embayed by a cluster of older, smitten, oh-so-in-love couples that were seconds from sucking throats right on the dance floor, Being in his arms felt so blissful and unreal, like it was just us.

Under the spotlight.

With every single sway, It felt like I was going to go out of my mind. The way he consumed my every single thought had my heart plummeting hardly out of my chest. His strong, distracting,boyish yet sweet scent; his taut warm arms around my body, causing a lot of havoc in the pit of my stomach and sending signals to my 'Timorous girl bummer' hormone, yet guiding me through every smooth swift step.

There was no foot smashing of any sort. By now, his hair that shone a glowing darker colour under the stage lights had fallen over his face and every time he slipped his tongue out of his mouth and slowly licked his lips, I felt something I had never ever felt before, nor dreamt of feeling. It was strange, eyeopening, passionate yet blindsiding. The band aid was off. And I was ready. I was ready to take it all in. All of him.

My sweaty hands curved around his shoulders and the crook of his rather cursively veined neck as I apprehensively traced his perfect imperfections. The couple of times I had my back turned to him and our legs slid over one another, I felt them, and they felt so long and ramrod straight and taut and smooth and warm and smooth and almost soft and tender?

I sucked in a hard breath against his exposed chest, trying and failing miserably to repel the rather magnetic strong force of attraction that binded and cemented our eyes that never ever left each other. I admit I wasn't trying so hard.

All I'm sure of is, I never wanted his blue eyes to release it's hold on mine. It seemed like that was all I did, read his eyes. Now they were bleached to an unfamiliar, light silver colour, I couldn't fathom what he was thinking at the moment.

His hands started moving, sliding and parting ways with my bare back. If only for a moment, I felt too dissapointed to even think. Or breathe. I wanted to cry at the loss of his touch. His hands.. The tenderness of them..Until his hands started going places, other places. Places more breath-stealing than hot sweaty waists.

Oh... Wait a little...!

Slowly and guardly sliding over every inch.., every curve of yours truly's fleeting dress. Everywhere his fingers touched was left hot and bothered with a strange but venturesome, wanderlusty warm, tingling sensation.

Oh good God in heaven, if this is considered a sin, I'd plead for forgiveness later, I might as well get to feel this good for once!

His hands went back to mine and he held it sweetly like expensive diamond as he smiled and began to nod his head dramatically to the fast beat.