Highest in Werewolf: #2
"Selene, my daughter, please hear us out. I know we don't deserve it, but your sister is pregnant and-"
I held up my hand to stop the man named Benicio Dixon from speaking. Surely they didn't call me here just so they can dum...
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"I see you received the flowers."
I lift my head from his chest and give him a wry smile. Raizel and I were laying on the couch; well, technically Raizel was.
I was laying on top of him.
I let my eyes drift to where he was looking and found him staring at the bouquet of wildflowers I knew he had gotten for me even without a card attached to it.
"Yes, I did. They're beautiful."
I mumble softly, allowing myself the pleasure of being engulfed in his warmth. I rest my chin against his chest. The hard muscles under his shirt a surprisingly cozy cushion. In the silence of the room, I had realized something: I've quickly become addicted to this.
Addicted to the contact between us.
Addicted to the relief his presence brings me.
It's a little daunting how attached I got. And how quickly it all seemed to progress. The most confusing was how none of this felt wrong. It felt perfectly right.
My focus laid on his face and every little detail I tried to burn into my memory. Like the way his dark hair somehow curls at the nape of his neck despite being gelled. Or how under his strong jawline was a small, barely visible beauty mark. The gray orbs staring back at me dances with a new type of tenderness. Melting around the irises with specs of vibrant silver I failed to notice before. His fingers play with the ends of my shirt, not daring to go touch the skin on my back but hover over it so I felt the comforting heat only his body could offer me.
I bring my arms up, tracing the lines of his arms softly.
His muscles tense but then immediately go lax from my touch. As intimate as this position was, with my chest firmly pressing against his, it was rather soothing. I enjoyed the way his chest would move up and down when he breathed, moving me along with him. The sensation of his heart beating below me as we spoke was just as mesmerizing.
Raizel makes a sound of unfocused acknowledgment, finding more interest in stroking the top of my head and pushing my baby hairs out of my face than my answer. His hand would linger a second longer on my temple before he would once again sweep my hair back from the start of my hairline.
One thing I learned very quickly was that he loved to play with my hair. Almost as much as he loved it when I played with his. No, that's not exactly it. While he enjoyed playing with my hair, what he truly loved was having any type of contact. Whether it was stroking my hair, absent-mindedly rubbing circles into my back, caressing my cheek or simply running his thumb across my knuckles, he had to be touching me.
