Page 95 of Haunted

“See, touch makes you nervous, as it does me,” I whisper.

“Has it been a while since you’ve touched another person?” Her words are barely audible. “Besides me?”

Centuries. “I imagine intimacy among acquaintances is the same in your realm as it is in mine. We touch rarely. Half-emrys go about reading each other so often, understanding every single emotion, that touch becomes unnecessary. And when the opportunity arises, we can’t control it.”

My passion is violent.

She has no response.

“Tell me, whose touch have you felt?” I breathe against her cheek. I’m holding back so much my fingers tremble against her face. “Tell me how and where. How did it make you feel? How do you want me to touch you?”

“I don’t know.” She tries to look away, but I won’t let her go.

“Tell me.”

“I thought you were concerned about losing control.”

My voice is soft. “I am.”

My lips test hers out, carefully. As my mouth explores every surface of her pout, I hold her steady. I cradle her head with one hand, and the other drops to her lower back. As desire overwhelms me, I press her firmly against my body.

She whimpers, but I support her. This is too much. She doesn’t know how to respond. Her mouth is stiff against mine.

My kiss will frighten her away from me, will hold distance between us to keep her safe.

I feed her my emotions, let her feel what she has been begging me for so long. Since she wants to know why I’ve held back, why I don’t touch her, I let her have it. Feel my intensity.

I can’t hold back anymore.

I give her appetite for the pleasures of flesh.

Sweetness.

Demand for gratification that I can’t yet have.

Itching for satiation.

Niawen, I need you.

Deliciousness.

Your taste. Your lips.

Abandoning restraint.

No. Not that one. I will hold on to it. She clutches my shirt with both hands and forces space between our bodies.

Her alarm grows. I will control back in, and with great effort, I release her.

She shoves me in the chest and stumbles away, covering her mouth.

The damage is done. “Niawen, forgive me.” I reach for her.

She holds her hand up to halt me as she edges away, clutching her stomach.

“I told you.” I curse. I gave her too much, showed her too much of the truth. “I’m sorry. Please, let me fix this. Give me time.”

She turns and runs out the door.

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