Retrace the Lines

Quinn

I can't help the small moan which escapes my lips. I would scold myself but there's only one, cyclic, thought in my mind. I want him.

"If you hate me so much, why is your heart beating so fast?" His breath fans against my neck, his fingers on my pulse.

I have no answer, nothing comes out.

All I can feel are the shivers engulfing my senses as he caresses my skin. Hesitantly, I allow myself to run my hands up his firm arms and onto his biceps. As I do this, he pulls me in closer and lightly touches his lips to my jaw, the soft contact making me lightheaded. He runs his hand over the top of my thigh and I have to bite down on my lip to stop myself begging for more.

With my self-control thrown out of the window approximately five minutes (or five days) ago, I proceed to let my fingers softly explore his abdomen, savouring the hard crevices of his stomach. He draws in a quick breath and it gives me the confidence to move my hand further up under his shirt, leaning in closer to breathe in his intoxicating vanilla scent.

"You're killing me here, Quinn." I gaze up at him through my eyelashes and I can see the emotion stirring in his emerald eyes. The longing, the confusion, the caution. We're now close enough that I can count the faint freckles peppered on his nose.

I don't think he realises that he's the one who's killing me.

He puts his hand under my chin, traces it with his thumb and I automatically emit a noise of pleasure. My heart convulses in anticipation as he then slowly leans in. I can feel him hesitate, and he pulls back slightly, rubbing his hand against my knee.

"Are you okay with this?" He asks this in a strained voice, clearly struggling to control himself. In response, I desperately grab the collar of his damp shirt and pull him closer. His bottom lip grazes my own, and I sigh in content. I'm just about to mould my mouth into his when mother nature decides to bring back the karma.

My peripheral vision is suddenly consumed by a while light and a deafening crack reverberates around our little shelter.

I stumble back and swear, using my hand to stabilise myself as I fall clumsily onto the concrete. I look up at Josh to check if he's okay and the look on his face turns my legs to jelly, completely unable to move.

Desire is painted over his face in breathtaking brushstrokes.

Our eyes lock for an intense second, but he then blinks back into reality.

"Are you okay?" He asks, offering a hand to help me up.I accept it, trying to ignore the painful longing in the pit of my stomach as his hand engulfs mine. 

He coughs as we slip into an awkward silence and just like that, the moment's over. As the cloud of lust quickly dissipates, all that's left is the unsettling reminder of our past.

It's too easy to get caught up in our own little world, the rain pounding against the tin roof, far away from everyone. It's too easy to forget that he crushed my heart. I don't know how I can keep allowing my body to take over my mind, to forget why we ended this friendship in the first place.

It only takes one look at the furrowed eyebrows and unusual frown on Josh's face to tell that he's thinking the exact same thing.

...

"Quinn." Amalia snaps her finger in front of me.

"Hmm?" I sound dazed.

"Where have you been this afternoon? You've barely replied to a word I've said. Did the rain give you hypothermia or something?" She asks this not unkindly, patting out her dark curls with a towel.