Caelin
I’ve never had an issue holding myself back, but with her. It’s there, the desire to do whatever I want, consequences be damned. The only thing stopping me is how much I respect her, and how far she’s wormed herself into the fabric of who I am.
My hands at her waist lift upward of their own accord, needing to feel the soft heat of her skin, the way it ripples as I go higher and higher. My knuckles snag on the fabric of her shirt, pushing it, along with my resistance up to her ribs.
Superhuman strength allows me to pry my lips from her shoulder. We face one another, both breathing hard.
“Can I?”
Most of the time, I’m an “ask for forgiveness, instead of permission” guy, but this is extenuating circumstances.
She rolls her lips in between her teeth, making them appear even pinker than they already are. I try not to notice the drunk expression in her eyes and the bee-stung fullness of her mouth.
“Yeah.” She nods her head, bashfulness making her face pink.