This is the revised version of Attraction (and now mature)
I always found that the air tasted special at twilight. Warmth remaining from fading sun mixed with the rapidly cooling air, turning vapor into a veil of mist above the grass.
The others sat inside around a candle lit table, waiting for dessert. I couldn't stomach much more and had sneaked out for a breather.
Venus twinkled in the distance, faint but fair in the relative darkness. Mars was out there somewhere, as well, but I wasn't sure where to look. It was supposedly reddish, but my astronomy skills could do with a polish. I wondered if Tom would have liked me better if I were a woman. He hadn't said anything about his sexuality, and I'd never had the courage to ask outright.
I had a feeling that he was bisexual, or if not, he was seriously good at staying beneath the gay radar. I glanced over my shoulder, watching Tom chat with the others. He spoke sparingly, but whenever he uttered a word, the others listened. His rigid stance made it seem like he wore a shell, an exoskeleton hiding the vulnerability beneath.
Adam caught me watching, perking up in an instant. He leaned across the table, not far from setting his hair on fire, said something, and rose to leave. He fetched a glass from my empty spot and squeezed through the patio door.
"Hey you." He handed me the drink with a soft smile.
"Hey Addy."
We clinked our glasses, staying silent until the tone of ringing crystal dispersed into the night.
"Was the food okay?" I asked, almost biting my tongue at the trivial question. I was fairly certain that he had something serious on his mind that he wanted to talk about. He had that look on his face—a fine wrinkle between his brows and a gaze that drifted as if lost in thought.
"Seafood is my favorite, but I'm eager to taste the dessert. Cloudberries, vanilla and chocolate can't go wrong."
"Add some liquor to that, and we're talking."
Adam tilted his glass and drank with a kind of delicacy that never left him. It was difficult to imagine that someone had wanted to hurt him.
He puffed out a breath, shifted his weight and fidgeted with his cuffs. The guy was easy to read. He wanted something but was nervous about saying it out loud.
"Are you in love with him?" he asked.
I gripped the stone railing and studied the line of trees against the darkening sky. The question wasn't entirely unexpected, especially not from Adam. He cared deeply about love and had every reason to question the sanity of joining hands with someone I knew virtually nothing about.
"No, I don't love him. I barely know him."
"You look like you're in love."
I stretched my lips into a grin. Adam was painfully innocent sometimes. "It's called lust, Addy. Don't confuse it with love. That only leads to ruin, or so I've heard."
He sipped his drink, allowing both of us to settle in the momentary silence. I didn't need to tell him how confused I was—that was something I would have to figure out on my own.
"Just don't get hurt."
I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him close to my side. "No one's getting hurt. I promise."
We stood there, staring out into nothing while hearing life passing by behind us. It felt as if I'd entered a secret hide-out where we remained a part of the world but skirted the fringes. Warmth escaped from the buzz of voices and the flickering candles—it seemed to pull us in, one inch at a time until we had no choice.
With emptied glasses, we shuffled inside and took our seats. Tom spared me a brief glance, nothing more than a shallow observation that I had returned. His brown eyes revealed nothing, and I had to remember the truth of those words I'd voiced to Adam. Lust and love weren't the same, and objectively, I had no possibility to love Tom as I knew nothing about him.
Dante's gaze found me, and I could tell that he had something on his mind. He was one of those who expected others to read his thoughts just as he seemed to read theirs, and once in a blue moon, I imagined that I could return the favor.
I nodded in confirmation and decided to try my bravery all over again. Tom's suit was the right kind of mix of soft and firm beneath my touch. My attention strayed to his lips before I checked myself. Oops.
"I want to play a game," I said.
A long second passed until he replied, "A game?"
"Yes. Twenty questions. I want to know more about you."
He set his tumbler of whiskey in motion, making the golden escape slosh against the crystal. "Another time. Don't want to exclude the others." He took a swig of his drink and placed it back on the table.
I wondered if I should push him to reconsider, but he was right. We weren't alone, although, we would be alone soon enough. I hoped he planned to stay the night with me, since no one should be left alone on their wedding night—that was just plain vicious.
The honeymoon suite was ours until morning, and I would take full advantage of the pristine sheets and bouncy bed. I grinned at the thought and leaned into my brand-new husband. Seduction consisted of several steps, some more than a little precarious, others fraught with hazard. Regardless, it was time to put my plan into action.
Shameless flirting had worked better than I could have hoped for so far, and I saw no reason to break a winning concept.
It began when the dessert arrived—plates decorated with such flourish that it seemed a shame to ruin the display of ice cream topped with my favorite berries and rich chocolate sauce.
I scooped up a spoon-full of cold deliciousness, closed my eyes and moaned as the flavors burst alive in my mouth. I gripped Tom's thigh under the table, digging my fingers into his hard muscle. "Oh my God, you have to taste this, it's heaven."
The raised eyebrow was the expected response.
I leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I know that was over the top. But, the question is, who goes on top?"
Okay, so perhaps I didn't whisper softly enough. It was Adam's turn to cough and beat his chest. At least he hadn't spat his drink all over the table. The others clearly hadn't heard me, because they were far more concerned with Adam's breathing difficulties than my less than subtle flirting.
Tom's warm breath touched my ear. "You're going too far."
"I'd rather be coming than going."
His eyelids closed, and time seemed to warp around us. What the others did became irrelevant—every ounce of my attention zoned in on Tom as his chest continued to rise and fall. Seconds seemed eternal.
"It's a bad idea," he said, grasping my hand to prevent me from touching further. I would have, I realized. The urge to tease and test our limits was overwhelming. Inch by inch, my touch would have traveled up his thigh.
"It's an excellent idea. Sex is always excellent when I'm involved." I spoke with a voice meant only for him, so close to his ear that I could nibble his lobe. The opportunity was there, the idea intoxicating, but the little angel on my shoulder who insisted on baby steps managed to keep me in check.
"Too complicated." The rush of air from his lips told a different tale. The satisfaction was instantaneous.
Slowly and deliberately, he tipped his chin and took a swig of the whiskey. The way he licked his lips afterward left me without words. The fascination frightened me—it was too strong. I was losing what little control I had.
"No strings attached. I promise."
He cleared his throat. He must have realized, like I did, that it was a ridiculous statement. We were bound by law, but without a real relationship between us, I couldn't ask him to remain exclusive. Adultery was inevitable.
It was something that shouldn't have bothered me at all, but for some reason, it did. Thinking about Tom with another body beside his, his skin beneath someone else's touch—it fucking hurt.
The pain stirred me awake into full clarity. This was a train-wreck waiting to happen. Flirting is fun when the stakes are high, but when they sky-rocket, you retreat. Red alert—mission abort.
Our conversation got no further, but the lack of a reply on his part could mean anything. His eyes remained unreadable, his shell shut closed. It was a respite I welcomed wholeheartedly. If he had his doors closed, I had to lock mine.
I sat back and listened to the others, smiling when required and responding when I had no other choice. If they noticed anything, they were kind enough to let me figure it out in my own time. Feeling far too vulnerable, I wondered if this was one of my worst ideas to date. I had never dared to love after everything had gone to hell all those years ago.
Lowering my gaze, I grasped my glass, feeling the tremors from distant memories in my shaking fingers.
A slight nudge, a pair of lips against my ear. "Maybe it's time to go then."
My heart stopped, lurched and began to race.
I couldn't say no. I couldn't even shake my head. Instead, I placed a smile on my face for the others, hoping they wouldn't notice the rising chaos.
Words spoken, gestures given—I went on autopilot until we reached the stairs. The floor became more solid beneath my feet, and the sounds from the restaurant transformed from a loud buzz to a soft murmur as I regained my wits.
We didn't touch. Our gazes failed to meet. But, tension sucked at the air, claiming the oxygen to its burning flame. Walking became strenuous, every step held by hesitation.
He opened the door to the suite, revealing the dramatic backdrop to our wedding night. Silk, soft pillows, draped curtains. The scene would fit in any cheesy chick-flick, but I didn't care. The details were lost as I caved, placing my hand on Tom's shoulder.
"No strings," he said.
I nodded. I could close my heart if needed. And if I could have him for one night, then it should at least be this one.
His fingers raked through my hair, took hold, and pulled me toward his lips. This kiss was different. He was in control, claiming me for the night. There was a certain kind of desperation, but also distance. I wanted to reach out, shatter that shell and find what was on the inside.
Clothes flew, lips met, hands roamed over heated skin.
It was perfectly dangerous, but I didn't know how to stop.
The feel of his hands, touching with the slightest hint of a question, was enough to silence every doubt. I wanted there to be more, I wanted those fingers to paint me with love, but even if they didn't, I craved the intimacy.
Hungry kisses traveled down my neck while I held on for dear life. The sounds leaving my lips should have felt embarrassing, but I simply didn't care. He did this to me. He could listen to the consequences. It was only fair.
I pushed our hips together, reveling in the feel of his erection next to mine. I wasn't the only one affected. He was there with me, ready to blow my mind. I searched for sweet friction against his groin and found it far too easily. It was as if my senses had waited for this moment to happen—ready to erupt far too soon.
Gasping, I inched back. Our gazes met. The fire was there in his dark pools, ready to devour. I was transfixed, almost afraid.
I clasped my fingers around his, backing through the room with him in tow. We didn't stop until my calves hit the bed behind me. A few seconds of absolute stillness followed, silent enough for me to hear not only my speeding pulse, but also his controlled breathing. His chest rose and fell, counting time passing by as we waited for the next move.
It came when he pressed his palm against my chest, pushing me back. I landed with a thud on the soft bed. Exposed for him to see.
We hadn't said a word since we'd left the others downstairs, but perhaps there was no need. I saw the intention clearly enough in his eyes.
Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, hovering above me. He pushed me further up on the sheets and nudged my legs apart, settling between them. He was warm and the weight of him only fueled me further. I wanted him. Desperately.
I decided that I didn't need to hold back. Seeking contact, I pressed my lips to his, tasting the lingering traces of smoky whiskey.
Lust, not love. I had to remember. I clung to that thought while he plundered my mouth. Each stroke with his hands tempting the fire beneath my skin. I devoured the sensation, never wanting it to stop.
Strangled moans escaped my lips, captured before they reached a sound.
A hand behind my neck. Fingers in my hair. A tug.
I pushed my hips against his, shamelessly begging for more. So much more.
He flipped me over, placing a lone hand between my shoulder blades. A steadying weight to counter the chaos inside. But I didn't want to calm down. My chest heaved with each breath while he slowly drove me insane by his measured touches. He was too cool, too collected, but I couldn't do anything while trapped beneath him. A fissure of fear crawled into my heart, only to silence when he covered my back with his body. A kiss on the nape of my neck. His erection against my ass.
I could only gasp as he pushed me deeper into the mattress.
"Is this what you want?"
"Yes. Yes." Breathless.
The sound of a drawer. His slicked fingers against my trembling entrance. I wanted everything but feared it all. I wanted him but feared he didn't want me.
It was sweet torture, fingers pressing against my prostate, coaxing deeper and deeper until I had nothing left to give. I was all his. Open. Vulnerable.
I kept my eyes closed, afraid that reality would shatter my whining heart.
No. Lust, not love.
The snap of a condom. Each sound a reminder of the world around us. He was there with me, ready to fuck me into oblivion. I could ask for nothing more. Nothing else.
I grasped the sheet, fighting to keep sane as he pushed inside. Each stroke far too measured. Controlled. But the pace drove me insane. I was burning from inside out, caught in a rush of desire I never wanted to end. It couldn't end, not when I had tasted this.
He embraced me from behind, breathing on my heated skin. Fucking me senseless.
Please kiss me again.
I came with a cry, tumbling over the edge with nothing to keep me safe.
* * * *
Cold light, warm air, the scent of sex heavy in the air—it was a setting I'd been in before. Usually, it was time to sneak out and leave sweet memories behind. But, that option was out of the question. I had to face whatever this was and deal with the consequences.
I touched my lips, swollen but satisfied. They tingled, sensitive like the rest of me. I could feel every wrinkle in the sheet below me, every ridge chafing against attentive nerves, but most of all, I felt the dull throbbing in my rear. It was a sated sensation. Comfortable in all its complexity.
He lay next to me, but I didn't dare to touch. While he remained asleep, I could pretend. I could imagine that he would embrace me even as our passion had faded. It would be worse from here on, knowing how perfect those arms felt around me. Chances were that I would never get the opportunity again.
Our night together had been so much more than I ever expected. The collected aura he exuded while dressed remained in place, but I had sensed a smoldering fire beneath the surface. He had claimed me with a certainty that swayed me to forget. He'd lured me further in, and I'd responded by letting go. It was a foolish act. Naive and reckless. Beneath his touch, I had been helpless but content.
From the corner of my eye, I saw how he shifted on his pillow. Watching people sleep had never interested me, but seeing Tom, unguarded, I was ready to make it a habit. He lay absolutely still on his back with his face turned in my direction. The cold light made his dark skin shimmer. I longed to touch, to see if it was warm or chilled. It had been scorching a few hours ago. Mine had too, but despite the warm air, I felt cold inside.
I dreaded the morning—the moment when I would know with certainty that he felt nothing. Would he ignore me? Would he pretend that nothing had changed between us? Something had definitely changed for me. We were compatible in a way that I'd never experienced with someone before. Countless one-night stands paled in comparison. They meant nothing. This meant...something.
I desperately wanted to reach for that connection and protect it with everything I had. There was only one problem. A relationship can't be one-sided. It doesn't survive. In fact, a relationship requires two entities to connect—to relate. I wasn't certain if Tom could relate to me at all. I had a feeling he thought I was annoying more than anything else.
Tom stirred, shifting to lay on his side. His broad shoulders towered my frame. Solid, reassuring. It would have been so easy to snuggle up beside him, to claim the spot I wanted.
I didn't dare. He wasn't mine, after all.
A/N wanted to post this, can't answer messages tonight, but please comment. I will repond asap. <3 Haven't counted the votes, but I believe, Joah is the winner for normal conversation. Snow white might pop up from a certain individual. Sweedie might pop up as well :) Thank you so much for voting, everyone!!
And, lots of love for Anonymous78912 for this amazing pic.