Page 45 of When Hearts Ignite

My friend is dangerous. An atomic bomb packaged in an unassuming box. I can feel my fingers hovering above the number pad, slowly entering the nuclear codes which will obliterate the world as I know it.

She occupies my waking thoughts, disrupting the logic I’ve known as my companion all these years. The conversation from Sean flits through my mind.

I should stay away.

“And what do I get in return?” I murmur, the predator instincts in me roaring to life, telling me to strike, but not knowing if I’m going to lurch forward to tear her into pieces or to dive into her to savor every morsel.

She falters, the fluttering on her neck becoming more pronounced, and an enticing pink flush slowly spreads over her pale skin like watercolor. I want to be the one holding the damn paintbrush to tease out those beautiful streaks. To create art with my blunt strokes and her vibrant hues.

“Another one of my days.” The answer comes out in a breathy whisper, one I can easily imagine funneling out of her lips when she writhes on the bed, her body draped in nothing but silk sheets as I feast between her legs.

Suddenly, all thoughts of guilt and job offers fly out the window. Dust in the wind. Sharp lust shoots straight into my groin, my dick stiffening in a matter of seconds. My body is malfunctioning, the urge to fuck overpowering, completely off track from my orderly schedule of one tryst per quarter.

These sensations are not friendly, the opposite of platonic.

The rational man inside me should heed to the advice Father gave me inadvertently that night when I caught him with the woman. I should remember the way Mother would secretly cry whenever Father disappeared on a “business trip,” the way our fucking COO died of a heart attack because he listened to his wife, the woman he loved, such that he ditched his responsibilities and traveled to the middle of the sea where he couldn’t get any medical help.

I should say no.

I should tell her to get back to work instead of tempting me.

I should disabuse myself of the notion this was ever a friendship.

Fucking shoulds. The most useless word in the dictionary.

My eyes flit to the calendar on my computer monitor. The meetings and calls I have lined up for the rest of the day, with precisely fifteen-minute breaks between each event to allow myself time to decompress.

“Fine. Deal.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. It’s almost as if my mind and my body are not communicating to each other, one turning against the other, and this warmth in my chest is taking the driver’s seat, giving the middle finger to all the rules and thoughts governing my almost thirty years on earth.

Grace claps her hands in excitement and rocks on her heels. The current in my spine crackles, and I swear I could see sparks coming out of me. Her mouth splits into a big smile, warming up the entire room, which felt colder than usual this morning.

“Great. I’m cashing it in today. Meet me out front at four p.m.”

She whirls around and takes her energy with her, leaving behind her intoxicating scent of jasmine, and a lingering heat in my heart.

I look at the haphazard piles of binders on my desk, the blacks scattered amongst the reds, papers sticking out, and a bittersweetness rises to the forefront.

She’ll understand.

I’ve lost my mind.

Because nothing logical can explain why I’m doing this to myself. Why I took one look at his face, seeing the weariness he’s trying to hide, and decided to take matters into my own hands.

When I heard outside his door it’s his birthday today, I just knew he would spend it alone, surrounding himself with his work like armor, like it would save him from truly living and enjoying life.

Friendship or no friendship, I couldn’t bear to see him spend this special day by himself.

Like it’s somehow the greatest sin to live for himself. To be kind to himself.

And so, I’ve given one more of my days to him, my mind trying its best not to think about what he’d do when he ultimately cashes in.

Fevered eyes. His pupils dilated, ensnared on my lips as I swiveled my tongue around his finger. The way his nostrils flared when Hayley interrupted us when we were moments away from kissing. How his large hand palmed the sizeable tent in his trousers, his gaze never leaving mine.

My core clenches at the heady memory. My heart stirs into a rapid rhythm, much like this morning when I laid in bed, my sheets twisted around my waist, my panties wet, after a blurry dream featuring a beautiful man with soulful, sad eyes, and a banked fire inside him.

It has to be the heat of the moment.

---