The night was slipping away, but the electricity between them hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it had only intensified. He could feel it in the way she moved, in the way her eyes lingered on him, always calculating, always assessing. She was older, experienced, and it showed in the way she carried herself, in the way she knew exactly how to make him feel.
They were standing close now, the room around them no longer even mattering. Every movement she made seemed deliberate, measured, as though she knew exactly what effect it had on him. Every second that passed felt like it brought them closer to something—something he couldn’t put his finger on, but knew deep down would change everything.
Her fingers brushed against his wrist as she leaned in, the touch light, almost teasing, but with an undeniable intent. The skin of his arm tingled where her fingers had just been, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional, if she was deliberately making him feel that rush, that wave of heat that followed her every touch.
Slowly, she moved her fingers, tracing the line of his arm with the gentlest pressure. Her touch was slow, deliberate, like she was savoring the moment, taking her time to enjoy the way he responded to her. His breath caught in his throat as her fingers grazed his skin, moving up just a little further, until they hovered near his shoulder, teasing him with the promise of more.
Each slow movement made his mind race. He wanted more—he wanted to reach out, to close the distance, to pull her into him. But at the same time, something inside him hesitated. Could he walk away? Could he break free from this growing need and step back into the safety of the ordinary world, or was he already too far gone, too consumed by her presence to stop himself?
Her gaze never left his, and as her fingers paused just above his shoulder, she smiled—slow, confident, as though she already knew the answer.
“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her voice like honey, sweet and dangerous at the same time. It was a simple question, but it was enough to make his heart race faster, enough to make him feel like the decision was no longer in his hands.
Her hand hovered there, inches from his skin, as if waiting for him to make the next move.
Could he walk away? Or was he already too far in, caught in the web she had spun around him?