Crestfallen [COMPLETED]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ - 21

Joanna

It's late night and I enter home, wrapping up today's work.

I walk over to the study, and
my heart skips a beat when I notice Alex standing near the doorway of our bedroom, his eyes fixed on me.

I freeze for a moment.
I am caught in the act of trying to avoid him.
My gaze meets his stare and a tinge of longing fills me.

For a fleeting second, I see something shift behind his eyes.

A tiny glimmer of hope rises in me, however faint it is.

That he might ask me to sleep back in our bedroom, that I didn't need to hide in the spare office room, just to avoid him.

But the moment passes, and his gaze turns away, With a sigh, he enters the bedroom, leaving me standing there.

My heart sinks. The unspoken message is clear-he wants his space, and I am to remain distant.

I enter the study, shutting it close after me.
I have become accustomed to his rejections, to his silent indifference. It isn't anything new.

And yet, it still stings. A familiar ache swells in my chest.

I quickly gulp it down. Replacing it with a smile, albeit sad.

Sitting on the couch, I stretch out my legs, allowing my aching body, a few moments of rest.

There are limits to how much one person could take. Endure.

There is a a breaking point.
Alex, doesn't know but, he is driving me away.

From himself. From our marriage. Until one day, I will have had enough.

Until one day.
I will leave and never look back.

..............................................................

My encounters with Jason have become unavoidable.

Our paths cross frequently in the confines of our workplace, as if he's being deliberately placed in my sight.

To address what I already acknowledge.

There's this pull I feel towards him. I want to but I can't deny.

I catch him stealing glances, his eyes fixated on me when I least expect it. It's like he's observing me even when I'm not looking.

In one particular meeting, the air is tense with anticipation. We all take our seats, making preparations for it.

I realize that Jason is seated right beside me.

As I begin to speak about one of the cases I am handling, his hand brushes against my thigh, sending an electrifying jolt through me.

My voice quivers slightly. But I feign confidence instantly. I can't let the mask slip.

I continue talking, forcing my words to flow smoothly, while his fingers trace delicate patterns on the skin beneath my skirt.

Goosebumps rise on my flesh. My mind races, torn between maintaining my professionalism and succumbing to this . . . . whatever he's doing to me.

His hand slids lower on my thigh and my mind go fuzzy with thoughts.

He teases me, his fingers circling over my skin, closer and closer and yet not close enough. Not there.

But I want him to. Touch me there. Just once. Just once.

To satiate my curiosity. His strong callused fingers stroking me as he plunges deeper over my c. . . . .

I stop my thoughts from drifting any further.

But I hate myself, for not really hating them.

I am not disgusted, at what this man makes me feel.

The room around us fades into a blur as his touch ignites a fire within me, a fire that I've tried so hard to suppress. I can't deny anymore the need that aches to be fulfilled.

As the meeting carries on, I find myself struggling to concentrate, my words faltering momentarily before I regain my composure.

His touch lingers, having an effect on me, like nothing has had in the last months.

But he's dangerous, and this attraction threatens to consume us, both.

As it did.

..............................................................

It's one of the late evenings at work. The entire office is empty.
Only I decided to stay back and work on a few minor cases.

Jason's sudden move catches me off guard.
He pushes me against the wall, caging me with his body. My breath hitches in my throat as bends my knee, positioning my leg against the wall behind me.

His fingers touch the skin of my thigh, setting my body's on fire with just that. He's here to, and I don't want to know the reason. I think I do.

We have been skirting along this attraction for far too long.

His breaths are shallow and labored. Just like mine.

Despite my initial instinct to resist, I can't deny this pull I feel.

"I want you," he breathes, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

"So much, I'm going crazy over it."

His confession hangs in the air, his eyes darkening with desire.

And my own eyes matching his.

His gaze holds an intensity that ignites a part within me, the part I had buried beneath the surface.

In these tough months, I had forgotten the feeling of being desired.

And then he kisses me, his lips crashing onto mine with a searing heat that electrifies my senses.

My fingers clutch at his chest, pulling him impossibly closer as I respond to his kiss, this time with equal fervor.

His touch grazes my thigh again, sending sparks of electricity through my veins.

Amplifying every sensation.

I find myself lost in the intensity of the moment, my body responding to his touch as if it had been starved for this connection.

I press myself against him, the boundaries between us blurring as our mouths move hungrily against each other.

His fingers trace patterns over my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

His lips leave mine, but the heat lingers as he murmurs in my ear, his voice raspy with desire.

"Come back to my place with me."

My mind screams at me to reject his offer, to out rightly say no.

But my body, my desires, betray my thoughts. I purse my lips in a silent admission of consent, knowing that in this moment, I'm choosing to succumb to this pull I feel towards him.

As his lips find mine once more, I allow myself to lose control, to let go of the inhibitions that have held me captive for so long.

With every kiss, every touch, every stolen moment, I'm reminded of the woman I had forgotten to be,the woman who craves passion, who craves to feel alive again.
Even if it's with the wrong man.