Page 19 of Organized Chaos
I grilled the steaks over the next couple of hours and hunted down a stash of Dad’s favorite red wine. As I set the table, my nerves flared. I hadn’t engaged in the familiarity of eating at home with anyone in years.
However, my apprehension over the intimate date amounted to nothing. Maya barely ate two bites after laying out the dinner spread, sprouting she was full.
I wasn’t interested in nourishment anyways, starving for an entirely different type of feast. My wandering eyes wouldn’t stop roaming her body. A surreal peace had befallen me ever since we scattered the ashes, and I couldn’t look away from the cause of it.
"How about that movie?" I murmured, moving us to the couch.
"Let’s do it." She appeared visibly relieved by the suggestion.
Maya was nervous. Darkness had fallen outside, a reminder that we were staying overnight in a remote cottage. It was nerve-wracking for her, no doubt. The way my eyes were hungrily perusing every inch of her body didn't help the matter.
Averting my wandering gaze, I flipped through the channels absentmindedly, preoccupied with the skin accidentally brushing up against mine. We were sitting a hair's breadth apart. If I slanted my body, we'd be touching. My breathing accelerated in anticipation. I was so unfocused that I hadn't a clue what was on the screen.
Maya leaned forward to set her wine glass on the coffee table. Locks of golden hair cascaded down her creamy shoulders as she leaned over.
At that second, I determined an error in my judgment by categorizing Maya’s physical attributes as ordinary. My measurement of her beauty was wholly incorrect because Maya was...
Drop.
Dead.
Gorgeous.
In fact, running through a mental inventory, I couldn’t recollect meeting anyone in my lifetime to surpass the attraction I felt toward her.
Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder, and in my eyes, there was no one prettier.
The motif was hardly justifiable to explore more with someone from a different continent. But I could point out that I didn’t appreciate her physical outlook—or even consider her particularly beautiful—a mere twenty-four hours ago. She only became the most beautiful woman on earth after my feelings had altered.
Hoping to understand the foreign emotions, I kept glancing at her, my attention fixated on her lips.
Generous.
Pouty.
Slightly pink.
I wondered if they tasted the way she smelled—roses and wildflowers.
So. Fucking. Enticing.
And I was... So. Fucked.
Maya dared to sporadically meet my glances while I dug my fingernails into the sofa fabric to release the sudden amplified ache. I was drowning in a heady fog, roaming mindlessly. The only guide out of this haze was her scent. It engulfed my lungs, making me light-headed.
I pointed the remote at the television and watched it flicker. Maya stilled, unsure of why I had switched the box off. My arm wrapped around her waist to haul her onto my lap, draping her legs over my thighs.
"Brandon?"
I tilted my head, searching for the lips that had endlessly tormented me. Maya moved her face at the last second, my mouth landing on her neck instead.
Lips latched onto her skin as if searching for the meaning of life. Nose nudged between the crook for a deep inhale, the scent of her intoxicating.
My head was groggy, and my heart was beating so hard against my chest I feared it'd burst open any second. I shifted us rather clumsily without paying attention to the destination, savagely taking my fill as if there would never be enough time in the world to devour her.
“Brandon, I-I...”
Her ragged breath fanned my cheek. I was positive she shared a vital piece of information, but my ears were ringing from the adrenaline, eyes staring blankly in an abyss.
