THE LEFTOVERS

41. Washing Machine

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared into James's eyes, his voice sinking straight into your chest like it was made for your soul alone.

He was right.

You never knew how much time you'd have together. Not really. So why wait? Why hold back, when every second right now was yours to share?

His fingertips brushed your bare shoulder, featherlight.

You glanced down, watching as his touch traced along your skin—soft, slow—until the strap of your top slipped down your arm. The bra followed, both falling with effortless grace. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked back up at him.

He smirked, clearly amused by how easily he unraveled you.

"You wanna stand up for me?" he asked, voice a whisper.

You nodded and rose, standing in front of him, completely entranced. James's gaze traveled the length of you—from your hips, slowly up to your eyes—like he was drinking in every inch, every detail.

Then he stood, closing the distance.

His hands slid to the hem of your top, fingers brushing your sides as he pulled it off, letting the fabric fall away without ceremony. The bra unclipped next, tossed somewhere behind him as his arms wrapped around your now bare waist.

He looked at you like you were art.

Like he'd never seen anything so beautiful.

He leaned down, kissing the curve of your neck—soft, slow, reverent.

Then, without a word, he peeled off his own shirt. He didn't want barriers. Not tonight. Just you. All of you.

You smiled faintly, your hand instinctively moving to his chest—tracing over each defined muscle, every line you adored—until you reached his belt. You loosened it, letting it drop to the floor, and James's eyes followed your movements with growing heat.

He sank to his knees.

Hooked his fingers around the edge of your panties.

And slowly—deliberately—slid them down.

You felt your breath stutter as he rose again, standing tall in front of you. Your hands returned to his chest, grounding yourself in the strength of him, in the way he held your gaze like he could see straight through you.

And then—without warning—you felt his fingers between your legs.

"Ahh—" you gasped, your voice catching as your knees buckled slightly.

Your hands gripped his chest for support, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in the room.