At first, he thought it was a trick. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, and he smirked, certain she wanted to play coy. But when he looked at her, the seriousness in her gaze dissolved every instinct to resist. There was something commanding in the softness, something irresistible in the invitation. So he obeyed.
Darkness swallowed the room the moment his lids fell shut. The world narrowed to sound, scent, and the wild drum of his own heartbeat. He waited, every muscle taut, expecting a kiss, a touch, something predictable. But she withheld it, letting silence stretch until it became a rope around his chest, binding him tighter than her arms ever could.
Then he felt it. Not her lips, but her fingers. They ghosted across his face, tentative at first, then bolder, mapping him as though he were a secret. Her fingertip traced the line of his jaw, the dip beneath his lower lip, the soft give of his mouth. He flinched—not from discomfort, but from the intimacy of it. No one had ever touched him like this, with patience and hunger blended into one.
Her nail skimmed the corner of his mouth, dragging heat in its wake. He parted his lips, instinctive, waiting, but she didn’t kiss him. Instead, her finger lingered there, pressing lightly, a reminder that she was in control of what came next. The denial was exquisite, painful in its sweetness.
He wanted to grab her wrist, to pull her into him, but his hands stayed frozen, gripped to the chair as though bound by unseen rope. With his eyes closed, every sensation magnified—the warmth of her skin, the faint tremor of her breath, the deliberate path she carved across him.
When her thumb finally brushed his bottom lip, his chest shuddered. He felt his body betray him, leaning forward into nothing, chasing the ghost of her touch. But still she didn’t give him the kiss he craved. She circled, teased, tested, as though she enjoyed watching him unravel without even looking into his eyes.
In that darkness, he realized something terrifying: he didn’t want to open his eyes. Because with them closed, she could make him feel anything. With them closed, she owned the entire world he inhabited.
And when she whispered, “Don’t move,” he knew he wouldn’t.