17
2003 Words
KATHERINE
I didn’t sleep even after everything went quiet in the house. My body refused to rest. My head was full, my chest heavy, and my skin burned like I was still under his hands. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. Christophe.
The way he looked at me when I told him the truth. The way his mouth crashed against mine like he didn’t care about the world.
I hated myself for wanting him.
I curled up tighter under the blanket, but the heat only grew. My lips were swollen, my body sore, my thoughts a mess. I told myself I should stay away, that it was wrong, that he wasn’t mine to want.
But my body didn’t listen. I remembered it too well.
When I finally heard his footsteps outside my door, I froze.
I thought he’d pass, go to his room, leave me alone. But he stopped. Right in front of my door. My heart almost leapt out of my chest.
I waited.
He didn’t knock. He didn’t say a word. He just stood there.
I could feel him even without seeing him. Like his presence pressed through the door, heavy, sharp, pulling me.
I wanted to open it. God, I wanted to.
But I didn’t.
I forced myself to stay still, even when my hands shook. After a long minute, his footsteps moved again. Slow. Heavy. Going down the hall.
I buried my face into the pillow and let out a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding.
I didn’t sleep at all.
Morning came cruel. My eyes burned, my head hurt, and my body felt weaker than ever. Still, I dragged myself up.
When I opened my door, he was there. Leaning against the wall across the hallway.
Like he’d been waiting.
My heart stopped.
His eyes caught mine, and everything I wanted to forget rushed back in.
He didn’t say good morning. He didn’t smile. He just looked at me. That cold, unreadable stare made me feel both scared and safe at the same time.
“Come,” he said, voice rough.
I didn’t ask where. I just followed
He led me downstairs into the kitchen. The smell of coffee hit me first, strong and bitter. He poured a cup and slid it across the counter toward me.
“Drink,” he ordered.
I wrapped my hands around the cup. They were trembling.
He noticed. Of course he did.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said flatly.
I shook my head. “No.”
“Because of me?”
My throat tightened. I didn’t answer.
His eyes darkened. He stepped closer, so close I could feel the heat coming off him. “Say it.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Something flickered in his face, gone too fast to catch. His jaw clenched, his hands curled at his sides.
“You should hate me,” he said low.
“Maybe I do,” I whispered back.
His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. It was darker. Hungrier.
“Then hate me here.” He caught my wrist and pulled me against him, his mouth crashing onto mine before I could breathe.
I gasped into him, but I didn’t push him away. I couldn’t.
He kissed me like he was starving. Like last night wasn’t enough. Like nothing would ever be enough.
My body betrayed me. It pressed closer, my hands gripping his shirt, holding on like I’d fall apart if I let go.
His tongue pushed into my mouth, deep and rough. His hand slid to my waist, gripping hard, pulling me tighter.
I hated him.
I wanted him.
Both burned inside me until I couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead stayed against mine. His breathing was harsh, almost painful.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he whispered.
I didn’t answer. Because maybe I already had.
The day passed in a blur.
I stayed near him, even when I told myself to stay away. He barely spoke, but his eyes never left me.
Like he was keeping watch. Like he didn’t trust me out of his sight.
I didn’t trust myself either.
Every brush of his hand, every glance, every step he took near me, it all set me on fire.
At night, when the house grew quiet again, I found myself standing at his door.
I didn’t plan it. My body just moved. My hand lifted, ready to knock, then stopped.
Before I could change my mind, the door
opened.
He stood there, chest bare, eyes heavy, like he’d been waiting for me.
We stared at each other in silence. My heart pounded so hard that I was sure he could hear it.
He didn’t speak. He just stepped back, leaving the door open for me.
I walked in.
The air inside was thick. The room smelled like him, sharp, male, and dangerous. I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t want to leave.
He closed the door. Slowly. Deliberately.
Then he turned to me.
His eyes dragged over me, slow and heavy, like he was memorizing every inch.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
I swallowed hard. “Because I can’t stay away.”
That was the truth. Simple. Ugly. Real.
His chest rose and fell, like my words cut him open.
In two strides, he was in front of me, his hand at my throat, not squeezing, just holding. His touch burned.
“You think I’m good for you?” he asked, voice sharp, teeth gritted.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I want you anyway.”
His eyes closed, his head dropping like he was fighting himself. When he opened them again, there was no fight left. Only hunger.
He crushed his mouth onto mine, harder than before.
This time, I didn’t fight it at all
We didn’t sleep.
The night was fire, sharp edges, gasps, whispers. His hands on me, mine on him, both of us too far gone to stop.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate. Messy. Wrong.
And yet it felt like the only thing I’d been waiting for.
When dawn finally broke, I lay against him, skin damp, body aching. My chest rose and fell fast, like I’d just survived something I shouldn’t have.
He held me tight, his arm locked around my waist like he wasn’t going to let me go.
I should have moved. I should have left before anyone saw. But I didn’t.
For the first time in a long time, I felt safe.
And that was the most dangerous part of all.
When I woke up, the room was still dim, the curtains drawn shut, but I knew the sun was already rising. His arm was still around me, heavy and warm.
I didn’t move at first. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to his breathing. It was steady, calmer than mine.
I should have slipped out while he slept.
I should have put distance between us before the world caught up with me. But I didn’t. My body wouldn’t move. My chest wouldn’t let me.
He shifted behind me, pulling me closer, like his body knew I was awake. His lips brushed against the back of my neck, soft but burning.
“You’re still here,” he murmured, voice rough from sleep.
“Yes,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything for a while. His hand moved slowly down my side, resting at my hip, holding me like he was afraid I’d vanish.
“You should go,” he said finally, though his hand didn’t let me.
“I know.”
But neither of us moved.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer. The silence between us felt louder than words. I could feel the war in me every warning, screaming that I had crossed a line, that I couldn’t come back from this. But my heart, my body, everything inside me refused to regret it.
When I finally pulled away, his grip tightened for a second before he let me go.
I sat up, pulling the blanket around me. My skin felt raw, my lips sore, my legs weak. I didn’t look at him when I stood. I couldn’t.
I grabbed my clothes from the floor and dressed quickly, hands shaking the whole time.
He sat up too, leaning on his elbows, watching me with those unreadable eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered.
“How am I looking?”
“Like you own me.”
He didn’t deny it.
Instead, he stood. The air shifted when he did, heavy and sharp again, like last night had never ended. He walked up to me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
“You came to me,” he said low.
“I know.”
“You knew what it meant.”
“Yes.”
His hand lifted, brushing over my cheek, slow, almost careful. “Then don’t walk away like it was nothing.”
My throat tightened. “It wasn’t nothing.”
His jaw ticked, like he wanted to say more, but swallowed it back. His hand dropped, and just like that, the space between us grew wide again.
I opened the door before I lost the little strength I had left.
The hallway was quiet. Too quiet. I stepped out, praying no one was awake to see me leaving his room. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. Every creak of the floorboard sounded like a scream.
I reached my room and closed the door, pressing my back against it. My chest rose and fell too fast. My legs shook.
What had I done?
The thought wouldn’t stop circling in my head.
I crawled into bed, burying myself under the blanket like it could erase everything, but it didn’t. His touch was still on me. His still in my ear. His kiss was still burning on my lips.
And I knew it was only the beginning.
The day dragged on in pieces. I avoided everyone. I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want eyes on me. My body ached, my mind spun, and all I could think about was him.
Every sound in the house made me jump. Every shadow felt like him.
When I finally saw him again, it was in the hallway near the stairs. His eyes caught mine, and just like that, I forgot how to breathe.
No one else was around. Just us.
He didn’t move closer, but his eyes pinned me in place. “We can’t keep doing this,” he said.
“I know.”
“But you’ll still come to me.”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
His jaw clenched. His fists curled at his sides. “You’re going to destroy me.”
“Maybe we’ll destroy each other.”
Something in his expression shifted like my words cracked something deep in him.
He turned and walked away without another word.
But I knew it wasn’t over.
It would never be over.
Night came again too fast. I told myself I wouldn’t go to him. I told myself I would stay in my room and stay away.
But when the silence fell, when the house went still, my body betrayed me. My feet moved on their own. My hand reached his door again.
This time, I didn’t knock. I just pressed my forehead against the wood, my chest rising and falling hard.
The door opened from the inside. He stood there, eyes darker than I’d ever seen.
“You,” he whispered, like the word hurt him.
“Me,” I whispered back.
He grabbed me and pulled me in.
The door slammed shut.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t gentle.
It was need, pure, burning, and dangerous need.
And I knew I was falling deeper than I ever meant to.
It's deeper than I could survive.
- Writer
