2nd update of the day cuz i'm too hyped for this book
Evelyn.
the touch of
your words
are all i seem to know
the touch of your
hands distract me
from the world
I closed the poem book with a sigh, fitting my bookmark and standing up. With that, I began walking down the hall of the building. I paused, just for a moment to lean against the wall with my arm.
Reading is a beautiful but wasteful pastime, in my life specifically. I love to read, to drown myself in words that I could not express myself but relate to.
Then, I felt the light breeze of a breath behind me, hitting my neck and firing off nerve endings down to my feet.
There is beauty in touch. It's the dance of fingers on skin, breath on the face.
It's intoxicating, the feeling of someone there, physically. More than anything, it envelops you. The dart of fingers, the sparks of connection.
It can also be torture.
Just like it is right now.
"Agent Hemmings."
He chuckled, "How did you know it was me?"
I didn't turn around to face him, feeling his hand on the wall near the back of my head. He took a breath in.
It was a moment before he mumbled, "Roses."
I turned my head, just a little to look at him. His head was leaned over my shoulder, his chest nearly touching my back.
Luke's hand tentatively reached over to touch my hip, lightly brushing it with his fingertips in a way that shocked me to the core.
It was as if we were frozen in time, just the two of us. And his touch.
My head spun, my eyes darting around quickly. The hall was empty- but for how long? If anyone would see this compromising position, it would just look... wrong.
"What?" I asked, addressing his comment now.
Luke smirked, his hand touching the back of my ponytail, "Your hair smells like roses."
I didn't respond, turning completely to face him. His eyes were as blue as ever, piercing me in an allure I could not escape. I could not resist his eyes, no matter how hard I tried.
He glanced down to the book in my hand, pointing towards it with a long finger.
"What are you reading?"
I offered him the book lamely, thinking he would merely read the cover, "A poetry book."
Luke took it from my hand, flipping through it and opening it to the page where I had inserted my bookmark. It then occurred to me what exactly I had just my bookmarked, what exactly was on that page.
"Oh I don't know," I started, reaching out to take the book from him. He lifted it above out of my reach, starting to read the poem I was on. Despite my weak plead to get it back, Luke began to read.
YOU ARE READING
fbi- lrh
Fanfiction"Agent Hemmings?" I looked over the man in the frame of my door. He was currently out of his usual, formal work suit and in a black leather jacket. His whole getup, in fact, was black, dark, brooding. And it was very strange. "Luke," he corrected...
