All of a sudden, my hands were in his hair.
My slender fingers ran through each chocolate curl on his head just like I had imagined – no, fantasized – about every single day. His own digits, calloused from writing on the board and holding pens for much too long marking, found their way onto my back, holding me like a... lover. My body leant back and his shifted forwards, we were locked in a titillating embrace.
The distance between our bodies was miniscule, and the hold wasn't broken by either of us. We were too close and held each other too long for this to be chalked up to an innocent encounter. Good.
"Be careful, you almost fell," he murmured so quietly that my ears strained to hear, not wanting to miss a word. He attempted a smile, the sides of his eyes crinkling as his warm brown orbs, hidden behind immaculately clean lenses, stared into my black ones. But his grin faltered after a moment, and I wondered what was running through his mind.
"Y-yeah, I'm a klutz," I replied, attempting to play it cool. I laughed slightly, intending it to be smooth enough to cover up my stutter. Instead, I felt it came out awkwardly. I was sure my face was reddening by now, as it often did when he was looking at me.
His intense eyes never left mine, threatening to render me incompetent. Feeling the heat surge through my face, it became all too clear to me that the longer this lasted, the weaker my resistance and morals would grow. I had to do something, didn't I? So I moved first, attempting to remove the arm that was around his head, the hand that was buried within his locks.
He made no movements to stop me, and a pang of disappointment struck. My arm slowed in pace, almost comically so, begging for him to do something. Just as my limb released itself from him, when I was free for the briefest of moments, he stopped me.
The man in front of me, the one I had dreamed of touching and having him touch me, truly was.
His hand gripped my wrist just enough to hold me still, but not enough to be painful. The sunlight reflected off his frames as thoughts raced through my mind. Was this truly happening? Though a part of me wanted to look away, afraid that my true feelings were reflected in my orbs, I dared not.
He began to hesitate, as if he regretted our touch; for a split second, I was afraid that he would let me go.
But he didn't.
With the gentlest of movements, he lifted my hand to his impeccably soft, parted mouth. My teeth sank into my bottom lip anxiously as I watched him plant a kiss so light that if I hadn't seen it, I would have sworn it never happened.
I was too stunned to speak.
His eyes half-closed as if he were dreaming, he kissed his way down my fingers. He breathed deeply, taking in my scent as if it were ambrosia. Then, as if he couldn't take it any longer, he threw my limb behind him before wrapping both arms around me. His lips now only inches away from mine, I could smell the tantalizing aftershave he wore; it was intoxicating.
"Are you—" I started, instantly regretting that my voice sounded so breathy.
He didn't allow me to finish.
Instead, he lowered his head, and his lips met mine.
The instant our mouths met, the moment our breath mixed, it was as if something inside of us, perhaps the invisible barriers, shattered. With strong arms, he lifted me up onto the wooden surface. My free hand gripped the side of the desk as he pushed towards me. With my one arm, I clung to him, desperate, craving his touch.
His tongue searched for and found mine with ease. In a delicate tango, they danced together as our bodies drew even closer. Involuntarily, a moan escaped my lips, a light feminine sound that made him smile. Oh, how I loved that smile. I pulled away, inhaling a breath of air to steady myself as he watched me. I felt as if I would faint from the excitement.
To my horror, I saw the light grin disappear from his face before he extracted himself from my body. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his face hard as he turned his gaze downwards, staring at the floor. "I... That... That shouldn't have happened," he said, breaking my heart. A war was probably raging inside of his mind. Passion against morality, wrong against right. One similar had been in my head for months on end.
I didn't know how to respond, so I simply didn't.
His eyes burned with something that I couldn't decipher, but it was a look that had the hope inside of me shriveling. All I could hear was my heart beating, pounding like a jackhammer in my ears. My knees felt weak, and the knuckles on the hand that gripped the table turned white. I couldn't control the crimson that spotted my cheeks.
"N-no, it's my fault..." I managed to say, feeling the need to break the silence. "I shouldn't have... I..." My eyes flickered to his ring finger, where a thin tan line stood out, then back to him. I wanted to tell him that it was fine, that I was going to leave, but I couldn't. The words were caught in my throat, refusing to come out.
