Beats Of The Heart

Tempting Offer

Without hesitating, I moved toward him, closing the space between us just a little and tilting my head up.

“Then let’s not waste time,” I whispered.

He didn’t.

Nor did I.

The night we spent together was a rush-bright heat and whispered sighs, exploring alumni while still so very familiar. No hesitations; no careful skirting; only fire and surrender.

It began with fire:

The sharp, smoldering heat of hands burning against skin. Tongues colliding like they were too greedy to have any consideration. The exhilarating rush of power and abandon mingled so tightly I swore I could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.

I had expected familiarity.

This I had not expected. I forced myself to stay still and watch him as he reached for his clothes, dressed quickly but with an ease of confidence- as if it were just any other morning.

You sent

Perhaps it was not.

Perhaps I was the only one who sensed the shift.

Perhaps this was not dangerous.

Perhaps it was.

"You don't do mornings, do you?" said Adrian, his shirt being buttoned with just the slightest hint of a smirk.

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't do attachments."

He did not flinch. This was not the way most men reacted. Most men tried to put those words to the test by challenging them to prove them wrong.

Instead, he went on to smooth his sleeves, adjusting the cuffs, and offered me a stare that sent something jabbing right through my chest.

"And yet," he said softly, "you are watching me leave."

My fingers clenched around my glass. "I watch everything."

Adrian chuckled and shook his head slightly. He reached for his jacket and put it on before heading out the door.

I did not move.

I did not stop him.

Even when he opened the door, he hesitated and looked back at me.

His face was inscrutable.

Mine was trained.

"See ya, Celeste."

It was not so much a question as a statement.

And before I could decide what to say, he was out.

The door clicked shut, and I slowly breathed out, putting my glass down with enough force.

I was finally getting what I needed.

A night of s*x. No strings. No expectations.

Then why did I feel like I had lost something?

The city beyond was waking, cars were rolling down the streets below, the world to go about as if nothing had changed.

And perhaps nothing had really.

Maybe I would go on as I always had-living). Unfazed. Unfettered.

Yet just standing at the door, staring out into nowhere-I felt like I had made a mistake.

Not because I had let Adrian in.

But rather because for the first time in a long time...

I was really uncertain I wanted him to go.

Adrian kissed me as though he had been waiting for this moment his whole life...As if he had known, somehow, that no matter how many times I tried to put distance between us, I would always end up back here. In his arms. Under his palms.

And I let him.

I let him strip me of everything: silk, breath, the composed exterior I wore like armor. I let him turn me inside out and uncover pieces of myself I had long buried beneath layers of control.

I did let myself forget.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t think about the afterward.

I didn’t think at all.

Hours blurred into an indistinct pull toward him and the heat that never left.

Adrian was more than a lover, he was a force.

And I met him at every turn.

We hardly spoke. When we did, our conversation was sharp-edged with teasing challenges, the words escaping between breathless gasps and low whispers. “Still think you’re in control?” he whispered against my throat, hands gliding down my back, teasing, taunting.

I had answered him with a smirk, biting my lip, rolling my hips, making him gasp for air. “Always.

For what seemed a long moment, we remained without speaking.

Then the corner of his mouth curled into a slow smile. "Morning."

I swallowed back an unwillingness to return to the old me. The woman who always held the power. "That's a risky look, Adrian."

He stretched, muscles rippling beneath the sheets. "Is it?"

"Mhm." I got out of bed, reached for my silk robe, and slipped it over my shoulders as I would a shield. "I can practically hear your thoughts."

He leaned against one elbow and watched me. "And what is it you're thinking I'm thinking?"

I turned myself to face him, tilting my head a little. "That you want to complicate something not meant to be complicated."

Adrian took a quick look at me before leaning back on the pillows once again, and really calmly, now smirked worse. "What gives you the impression that I want to?"

That made me rather uncomfortably silent because, honestly, I was not sure who I had attempted to convince either-him or myself.

Then I went to the bar, poured myself a glass of water, and stood there facing Adrian. We held silence for quite a while-an impressive silence, unspoken-but with layers and tones of different feelings.

I had done this all before. Leaving a bed, leaving a man, leaving a night behind-measured nothing more than a spurt of pleasure and fancy.

But this was different.

I hated it.

"I should go," Adrian said suddenly, getting up. There was nothing casual about his tone; there was something care about it.

I turned and sipped my water. "Do you expect me to stop you?"

He smirked. "Would you?"

"No."

The word came out far too quickly. Far too sharply.

He caught it, and for the first time since last night, he wasn't amused. He shook his head once, as if accepting something I wasn't sure I had even admitted. Then he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.