I went through some MCQs and read up on some standard answers to some essay questions. Some things, I recalled, wondering how I had forgotten them in the first place, but then once again, my brain was saturated with all this information.
If there was anything new worth learning, then I would learn it tomorrow.
I pushed my books off the sofa and stretched out, feeling the tension ease and all the knots slip out of my muscles.
I then moved to the floor and collected my things and put them back in my bag.
And then I was left there with my thoughts.
She had been nagging at my damn brain and for hours, I had managed to push her aside for my own greater good. But now that I had finished studying, she was all that I could think about. What was I doing here? What exactly was my intent?
For all those wishes for one last time, what did I hope to achieve here?
I would not have liked it if some girl was busy hitting on my man, so…
I rose to my feet and moved to the window wall and parted the drapes.
It was grey outside and the rain was now a thick fog.
From this height, I could see a little bit of the world. The street lights were on but it was a futile battle to make their presence known through the dense fog. I could feel a taste of how cold it was, standing this close to the glass and I wondered what it would be like to be caught out in the middle of that. How would it feel like to have nowhere to go, knowing that there was not a single place that was safe?
That was how my heart felt, I think.
Who was I to him?
If he was with her, then surely he couldn’t be anything to me.
I could not feel anything for him because these feelings – my heart – would have nowhere to come home to –
I was caught so off guard by his sudden nearness that it surprised even me.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and I melted all at once, turning my cheek right into his hand like it was catnip to me. I inhaled deep, like he was a scent in the air that I needed to catch. He made a sound, deep in his chest, and I backed into him when he stepped closer to me.
His fingers moved to my throat and I swallowed hard, my eyes dropping closed, my head falling back against his shoulder. My pulse beat hard against his fingers and I knew he knew it when my heart began to race right there in my chest.
His grip on my waist tightened ever so slightly and I squirmed against him.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of my neck and my eyes snapped open at the sudden thunderous explosion of pleasure from the delicate contact.
I whimpered and he only held me tighter.
I didn’t even realize it until then that I was holding him to me until my knuckles protested where I clutched fistfuls of his shirt on either side of me.
“Who… Who are you..?” I asked dazedly.
The name came out like he had always owned it; like there was nobody anywhere else on the surface of the planet who was called by that name besides him.
“Dominick…” I repeated.
I felt drunk.
Have you ever felt that?
Just on the edge of having too much to drink, dancing to your favourite song?
Nothing else matters then and everything feels right and you feel like you can fly.
I felt just like that in his arms.
All my worries and thoughts and questions just melted to nothing.
I broke contact with him, stepping away from him altogether on unsteady legs.
I covered my face with my hands, taking deep breaths and trying to clear my head of the thick fog that was engulfing it.
When I felt him draw near, I turned away from him, avoiding all contact with him.
I made it to the kitchen in one piece and all but stumbled over to the sink where I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over my face.
I stared down at the shiny silver sink for the longest time, my head bowed.
What had he done to me?
I dropped down into the seat that I had taken earlier, keeping my head low, staring down at my fingers where they rested, twined tight, in my lap.
I heard him enter the kitchen, but I remained exactly where I was seated.
He came to a stop before me, silent and unmoving.
Was this what years of loneliness and the want for companionship had driven me to?
Walking into the arms of a man who already belonged to somebody else?
I lifted my head and raised my eyes to his.
How treacherous was I, that I could do this to another woman?
He was looking dead at me.
Of course he was.
I felt like my own body was holding me captive, trapped in his unblinking gaze.
His expression was serious and angry, just like it had been when he found me at the bus stop that first time.
He stepped forward very slowly, never taking his eyes off of mine and I could not look away.
He was like a beast, stalking its prey.
A beautiful beast.
He stopped before me, his thighs lightly brushing my knees. In an even slower motion, he lifted his hand and slipped it gently between my knees and parted my thighs – and I allowed it.
He stepped even closer, just a little bit, just into the junction of my thighs.
His nostrils flared.
Something in me began to rise and I trembled deep inside myself, feeling the moisture build at my core.
His hand came up slowly and my eyes dropped, following its progress, knowing exactly what he intended to do but helpless to stop him all the same.
He cupped my cheek and I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers whisper across my skin.
Every sense was heightened.
Every little nerve ending on my skin responded to his touch.
I was getting dizzy again, spiralling to my favourite song – him.
I bit my lower lip when it started to tremble, my throat going dry, my vision beginning to blur.
He stepped even closer and with his thumb, he coaxed my lower lip out from between my teeth.
And then he lowered his head and he kissed me.
His lips were firm.
And he tasted like coffee, strong and without sugar.
But I tasted like chocolate.
And I liked how we tasted in my mouth.
And his eyes were open.
And I knew this because so were mine.
He pulled away and I felt like I’d been violated by this break in our connection. His hand left my face and it was like I’d lost the core of my balance as I leaned against the island’s counter, my fingers coiled tighter, my eyes wandering to his.
Because if I wasn’t looking at him – if I didn’t keep my eyes on his, I would look down at his waist. I would disrobe him. I would –
There was nothing but challenge there in those hazel depths.
He placed his hands on the counter on either side of me and widened his stance so that my thighs responded in kind and the feeling of the action on my sex was – delicious.
He lowered his head again.
His forehead bumped gently into mine and it was like a spark had been reignited within me.
My skin was flaming, but I didn’t realize it until I felt a single bead of sweat slither down my spine – I shivered.
His breath was warm, fanning my face.
His breathing was even and calm, but I couldn’t calm myself.
He was so close.
So, so close.
I bit my lip again and I felt the gentlest pressure when he leaned even closer, tipping my head back slightly.
“Don’t do that,” he ordered.
I was locked in this place, unable to speak.
Because his voice was gravelly now, tinged with some kind of accent that I couldn’t place.
And these mundane words, had never sounded sexier than they did than when he said them to me.
He lowered his head a little more and his lips brushed the top of mine.
My lower lip slipped free of its prison between my teeth and he gasped.
But then, all I could see was flames.
I was trembling all over.
Because he caught my lower lip between his teeth.
I couldn’t breathe.
He released it slowly, suckling it, tasting it.
I whimpered, my hand leaving my lap and finding itself at his throat. His pulse beat strong and fierce against my palm. He planted a fleeting kiss on my lips where they tingled from his assault on them.
I opened my eyes, unaware that I’d closed them at all.
His eyes flashed at me and I felt so exposed, like I’d been hit by a blast of fire.
I was so unfocussed, hungering for air, he was a swirling mass of life before my eyes.
He nipped at my lips gently until I could not do anything but yield to his command, leaning in for the kiss he wanted.
He was – commanding and reckless all at the same time, confident in having found what he wanted and not afraid to demand more of it.
Hell if I wasn’t going to give it to him!
He gripped my thighs and lifted me clear off the stool and it clattered to the floor where he kicked it aside. He set me down on the countertop and stepped even closer and I could feel his crotch pressed right up against mine where I locked my legs around him.
My hands swept up his throat and in the back of my mind, I noted the sinew of the muscles there, right up to his jaw. His skin was ablaze, just like mine.
His lips moved to my throat and I craned my neck to give him all the access that he wanted –
The sting on my scalp caught me off guard even more than the sudden separation of his lips from my skin – he was fisting my hair!
We stared at each other for the longest time and a myriad of feelings swept over me like a tidal wave.
I was startled by his actions.
I was angered by the fact that he’d broken our intimate contact yet again.
I was frustrated that my body wasn’t getting what it really wanted right then.
And I was so aroused that I wondered if I hadn’t in fact soaked my underwear right through.
And he was gauging my response to him.
All I knew was that I was still fisting his shirt, trying to pull him back to me.
“I must take you home, Dilia…” he all but snarled. There was that accent again.
It distorted his words so much that I almost didn’t register his next words.
“Or I’ll fuck you right here on this counter!”
I gasped, stunned.
He claimed my lips again in a passionate, heated kiss that made me feel even more at a loss for control than I had just been.
But it was brief and rushed and left me panting for more.
He let go of my hair and broke the kiss, wrapping his arms around me and I reciprocated in kind.
We breathed long and hard against each other and it gave me some relief to know that he was as – moved by this as I was.
I trembled as he moved his hands up and down my back and I arched my spine, pressing my breasts right into his chest. He groaned.
“Don’t do that…” he ordered.
“Don’t do that..!” I countered.
He stopped with obvious reluctance and then stepped back.
He helped me off the countertop and after I was sure that I could even walk – the triumph was there in his damned eyes – I let him guide me from the room.
He scooped up my bag, never letting go of my hand and before long, we were in his car.
The drive was quiet and the roads were practically empty but for the city’s party-goers.
I could see that he was tense, but so was I, and I didn’t know what to say!
Was he thinking about her and this betrayal? Did he regret what had just happened between us?
Had he done this all for the taste of catching the conquest?
Was I a disappointment to him?
But all of that faded in the face of what I had just felt – what I had felt of him.
There was no way that anyone could pretend to feel what he had just shown me of himself.
These moments between us had been loaded, to say the least and it was obvious that there was some kind of spark between us.
Even simply sitting with him at the bus stop, having said nothing, was a powerful experience.
But what did it all mean?
What was I supposed to do with this?
The car came to a stop and I realized that we were at our destination.
I looked up at my building with a sense of disdain, sighing heavily as I accepted my fate.
I think I thanked him – I don’t know and I was too miserable to care.
But he took my hand as I reached for the door handle.
I looked from this point of contact, to him.
He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking down at our hands, barely breathing.
He loosened his grip and slid his hand over my skin to my scar and he traced it with his fingers.
“Can I see you again?” he asked. “Will you let me?”
I wanted to say yes.
I desperately wanted to.
I opened my mouth and for a long moment, all that came out was silence. His eyes snapped to mine.
“What about her?” I asked.
There was barely anything in his features.
“What about her?” he asked.