Fires On Skin

I turned to him slowly, my lips parting against his skin from just how close we were, my mind finally finding a bit of ease after the hours of self torment. He met my eyes without leaning away, the intensity turning my stomach to mush, my body immediately catching unto the waves of desire and restrained lust, and something purer helmed between the two.

My hand gently moved, and my fingers pushed through his hair, and then through his neck, my eyes darting slowly across both of his.

"I was worried," I admitted in a slow whisper, my chest heaving. "I was worried you would hate me."

He let his thumb run over the edge of my lips. "It would be impossible to hate you, Roxanne."

"I want to believe you."

"You should," he said, his eyes leaving mine for a few steady seconds to settle on my lips. "You should believe me. I haven't said words that I believe more, either."

"Why?" I asked, my eyes flicking up to him again. "Why me?"

His lips lifted up in a small smile. A smile that did not reach hi