The Project || 18+ [ON HOLD]

5. 🌶️

The door to my motel room closes with a soft click, a sound so quiet it's almost drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

Killian stands there, just a heartbeat away, his presence towering over me. He's close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him, an invisible touch that sends shivers down my spine. The air hangs heavy, thick with words we haven't said but feelings that scream loud in the silence, crackling with the kind of anticipation that makes every nerve in my body awake and alert.

His eyes lock onto mine, deep and mysterious. Even in the dimness, their intensity cuts through. I see it there, that raw hunger, as clear as if he's shouting it from the rooftops. His shoulders are tense, the kind of tension you see in a man who's holding himself back, standing at the edge of something monumental. The bedside lamp throws shadows across his face, adding a layer of mystery, but those eyes, they're burning right into me.

He moves closer, each step measured, and instinctively, I step back. My back hits the wall, cold and unyielding, and I realize there's nowhere else to go. He follows, a slow, deliberate predator. There's no space now, no retreat. His hands frame my face, rough and gentle all at once, and when he leans in, his breath is a warm brush against my lips.

"Elora," he breathes out, turning my name into something that sounds like a vow, a sin, a temptation that shreds through my remaining control.

My words are caught in my throat. I'm overwhelmed. Maybe bringing him back to my motel room wasn't the best idea.

He watches me with an intensity that feels like he's peering into my very soul, his gaze searching, patient yet expectant. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a gentle probe, "Are you scared?"

That question echoes in my head, bouncing off the walls of my thoughts. Am I scared? Fear doesn't seem to be the right word. Overwhelmed? Absolutely. But scared? That doesn't sound like what I'm feeling. It's not fear that's coursing through me, but excitement, uncertainty, and a longing I can't quite name. After a moment of thought, I find my resolve and slowly shake my head.

"Use your words, darlin'," he urges, his voice a low command that sends shivers down my spine.

"No," escapes my lips, a whisper that barely carries. My voice is a breathy echo of the chaos raging inside me. It feels like every nerve in my body is alive, buzzing with anticipation and an unnamed longing for something that only he can provide.

When our lips finally meet, it's like a slow-burning flame, a kiss that sets every inch of me alight. It's not a conquest, not a victory, but a mutual surrender to the desire that's been building since the moment our eyes met. His kiss deepens, and I'm lost in the sensation. Lost in the scratchy feel of his stubble against my skin, contrasting with the softness of his lips.

The world outside this room, this singular moment, fades into obscurity – there's only Killian and the undeniable, magnetic force drawing us together. His hold on me is a language of its own, speaking of both reverence and an unbridled need that resonates deep within my core. His movements guide us, a silent but commanding dance towards the bed; each step promises relief for the ache we both feel.