Damage

Chapter 34

Lukes raises his eyebrows, silently conveying a "Yeah, sure."

"Well, okay, maybe I was about to fall but I didn't! And that's what matters. I can control myself," I retort indignantly.

"I don't doubt that," he says sincerely, smiling wryly. "Well, in most aspects."

"Most aspects?"

"Most. Overwhelmingly." Dumb, stupid cocky grin.

"Overwhelmingly? What about the rest?"

"Well, you came here to study right?" He steps closer to me and I lean against the bookshelf.

"Yes," I say softly, not sure where he's going with this.

"But what do you want to do when I do this?" He comes even closer so that our bodies are barely just touching, our faces apart by only six inches, probably less. 

I press myself further against the bookshelf.

"I....want to study," I say, taking a short, shallow breath, remaining relatively composed, willing myself not to cave in.

He raises his hand, his fingers just barely ghosting against my waist, before leaning in so that his lips are only a few inches away from my ear.

"And what about this?"

I swallow. "I still, um, really...want to...study."

It's taking everything in me not to completely dissolve underneath him and against the bookshelf, it feels like everything inside me is humming, like my body is the sound of an orchestra tuning before the symphony.

"And," he leans down, "this?" I can hardly breathe and his lips are just barely against the skin that connects my neck to my shoulder. I can't tell what's next as his body presses against mine, my eyes closing of their own accord and shivers running down my spine.

All I know is that at this moment, it feels like I can hear my heartbeat and the sound of blood whooshing through my veins and I can't speak, let alone think. I mean, think....let alone speak.

My eyes are closed and I can hear the hum of his voice as his lips just barely rest against the skin of my neck.

"I have to say," he says and my eyelashes flutter at the sensation. "You have excellent..." he says, moving his lips further down as his hands reach just barely underneath the fabric of my shirt. "...Self control," he mutters, his voice low and gravelly as his lips brush against my skin and he lifts up the hem of my shirt, his lips painfully close to the inch of skin that's sure to make me melt and his hands torturingly, tantalizingly, slowly, getting closer and closer to making contact.

"But..." And then suddenly, I feel his body move away abruptly and the air around me feeling significantly less warm. My eyes open and when I can properly focus I see that he has the book I was holding in his hand and a smirk on his lips.

"But, you already knew that."

And then he smoothly rests the book down on one of the lounge chairs and sits opposite it, leaving me completely breathless.

***

The tension between us could be cut with a butter knife. I have so much reading to do, and I'm slowly but steadily making my way through it, constantly peering over the book to look at Luke in the chair across from me.

He's wearing his glasses again and his Columbia sweatshirt and his eyes are glued to his notebook, flipping the pages of his notes covered in bullet points and graphs.

It's past 11 PM so my eyelids are getting slightly heavy and I'd rather do anything but finish my readings for tonight, but I have maybe five pages left.  Just as I turn the page, Luke closes his notebook and silently gets up from his chair, leaving his notebook and miscellaneous papers in a little stack on the coffee table.