He couldn’t focus on anything except her. She was so close now—closer than he had ever expected, and certainly closer than he had ever imagined she would allow herself to be.
She had moved in subtly, almost imperceptibly, but it was enough to throw him off. One moment, she was just across from him, the space between them comfortable, familiar. And then, the next moment, her body was inches from his, the warmth of her skin radiating toward him. She leaned in so slowly, so deliberately, that it took him a moment to realize what was happening.
At first, it was just the light pressure of her shoulder brushing against his. But as she leaned in more, her body seemed to mold itself against his, her chest barely touching his arm. The contact was electric.
His breath caught in his throat as the scent of her perfume reached him, and he could feel the soft rise and fall of her breath just inches away from his face. She wasn’t speaking, but the space between them had shifted. It had become charged, thick with the tension of what could, or would, happen next. Her lips were so close that he could feel the faintest stir of air with every word she spoke.
“You’re so tense,” she said, her voice a smooth whisper that seemed to slide across his skin, making every nerve in his body stand on edge. Her tone was soft, almost too soft, but there was no mistaking the control behind it. She was closer now, so close he could feel the heat from her body, hear the faintest sound of her breath as it mixed with his.
“I’m not sure if I can help you relax…” she trailed off, and the unfinished sentence hung in the air like a question, an invitation he couldn’t ignore.
Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips, then back again. The subtle shift in her posture, the way she leaned just a little more into him, made the distance between them seem impossibly small.
Did she know what she was doing to him? Did she understand how every inch of her body, every slight movement, was pulling him closer to something he wasn’t sure he was ready for?
It wasn’t just the closeness—it was the confidence she exuded. The way she seemed to hold the power in the situation, her body pressing against his with quiet authority. It was like she knew exactly what she was doing, knew the effect it was having on him, but she wasn’t in a hurry to make him act.
Instead, she let the moment stretch, let the heat between them build slowly, almost deliberately, until the silence was louder than any words could be.
His pulse was racing now, his body betraying him in a way he couldn’t ignore. He could feel the heat of her body, the softness of her skin, and the overwhelming need to close the distance completely.
But as she leaned in even closer, just a hair’s breadth away from touching him, she pulled back—just slightly, just enough to leave him wanting more.
And in that brief, suspended moment, he wondered if this was all part of her plan—to pull him in, only to leave him hanging, waiting for the next move. To make him want her more than he had ever wanted anyone before.