was leaning over me, bathed in the soft light of an old lamp whose shade was off-white and muted by the low wattage of the bulb that lit it.
The room had always appeared cozier in this light and almost as if he had willed it, I looked up into his face. The mood of the room suddenly took on an entirely new feeling as his intent was clearly written in his expression.
I began to clamor back, struggling to gain my footing, a handhold in the plush rug. I made it about six feet before I realized he hadn’t come after me. His lack of movement brought me up short.
I studied him for a moment from where I had stopped in my escape. He was sitting in a relaxed position on the floor; his face was smooth and emotionless, appearing to be uninterested in whether I ran or not.
And then I realized that there was no reason for him to chase what couldn’t get away from him. He had all night and knowing that in order to save Ellie, I would eventually come back to him. I had nowhere else to go
He was looking at me, probably enjoying my terror and the play of my emotions on my face. Getting up on my knees and then standing, I walked purposefully back to him and dropped back down again in front of him.
For a couple of minutes, we sat just like that, no movement, no words. It was then I decided there would be no more tears, no more cowering. I was doing this for Ellie and my mom. I would do it right. Whatever he had planned for me, I would take it. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my terror. If I had nothing else, I had my pride and with my mind made up, I looked up full in his face.
If he noticed the change in me, he didn’t acknowledge it. His eyes were dilated and it was extremely difficult not to stare into them. So I decided not to try. What did it matter either way? And so I let my gaze get caught. Maybe it would make what was going to happen easier to bear if I was taken in by him.
He stared back at me with eyes that I suspected had seen thousands of moments just like this one, his face softened by the muted light. With exaggerated slowness, he took a long lock of my hair and spiraled it around the fingers of his left hand. It stood out dark against the white skin of his hand.
Rising up on his knees, he leaned in over me. I stared now at the sculpted muscles of his chest outlined through his soft blue t-shirt and followed the sharp line of his muscles down. His hips were narrow and his legs long and corded.
Looking up from his body just as his lips brushed mine slightly, I saw him pull away. In a slow sensuous movement, he pulled his shirt off and dropped it on the floor next to us.
Dropping his face closer to mine again and with more intensity, he kissed me a second time. Re-wrapping his hand in my hair, he jerked my head back rather forcefully until I was looking up at his face.
He was beautiful yet masculine; I could see that more clearly tonight and I didn’t try to look away. His features couldn’t have been more perfect except there was no warmth in his eyes.
There was a lust, however, clearly evident in every feature of his face that could not be denied. It emanated from him like a hunger. I wondered then if he was as attractive as I thought he was, or if I was responding to the sexual heat radiating off of him. It didn’t really matter, I knew, the end result was the same, but I couldn’t help but be curious.
Taking me by surprise, a wave of heat radiated out from deep within my core. Ashamed by my reaction to him, I rationalized that it was impossible not to react to the combination of his beauty and his evident desire.
But something wasn’t right. I’ll admit it had been a while since I had felt any great passion, but now in a matter of a few minutes I felt like I was on fire from the inside out. The heat had changed to a mild ache and a hunger that I simply couldn’t put into words. Hunger for everything. Everything that I had ever craved seemed to be running through my mind. Food, alcohol,