Page 54 of The Unwanted Husband
Minutes passed and she closed her eyes and waited for his breath to settle. It took a lot longer than she expected but his breathing evened out. Slowly she opened her eyes to look at him. She saw he had his back to her and was a good half a foot away.
Isha took a deep breath and did the most irrational thing she could think of. She scooted closer to him, one baby inch at a time being super careful about not waking him. Moments where she thought his breathing pattern shifted, she froze before inching in closer.
Every nerve ending in her body was on fire, hyperaware of how close she was getting to him, how his scent surrounded her. She was so close to him she could feel his taut muscles against her chest. She only had a thin satin robe on and her pebbled nipples threatened to rip through the thin fabric.
Her mind and body were so desperately aligned for his touch, the feel of his heat against her, she moved smoothly to press the soft flesh of her chest into his back before burying her face into his shirt fabric.
Moments passed and she took in the warmth and barely a minute into her act, she felt him go completely still, his breathing becoming controlled.
“Isha, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice strained.
Instead of answering, she let her breathing deepen, evening out as if she was in a deep sleep. She let out a soft moan against his back, her arm draping over his waist in what she hoped seemed like an unconscious movement.
“What the...” he started, then stopped, his muscles tensing under her touch.
She kept her breathing steady, feigning sleep while every cell in her body was screaming with awareness. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, she could feel the heat of his skin, the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat that betrayed him despite his attempts to cover up the excitement and deny its very existence.
He tried to ease away slowly, but she followed the movement, pressing closer, her leg sliding against his as if seeking warmth in her sleep. The contact sent electricity shooting through her entire body, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping.
“Fuck,” he breathed, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.
She could feel the war raging in his body. She knew he wanted to turn around, to give in to what they both desperately wanted, but was fighting every instinct. His hand hovered over her arm that she had draped over him, for a long moment before finally settling there, his thumb unconsciously stroking her skin.
The gentle touch nearly undid her careful charade. She wanted to arch into him, to abandon the pretense and take what she needed. But this slow torture was exciting. The anticipation building with every careful breath, every small movement that could be explained away as sleep.
She waited long enough before shifting again, this time letting a soft sigh escape her lips as she pressed her hips closer to him and felt his sharp intake of breath in response.
He swore softly into the darkness, but turned around, his arm sliding around her, pulling her closer despite himself.
It was all she wanted in that moment. She buried her face partially into his chest as he lay on his side facing her, her chest pressed up against him and her belly was dented by his hardness. She wanted more but she knew she had to slowly but steadily build it up before she got it all out of the system.
Her desperation got the better of her. Thoughts of never getting this close to him overtook her strategic mind. Before she knew it, she was pulling her sleep shirt up to her shoulders and plastering her bare body against his chest.
A shudder passed through him as her hands slid under his shirt, pushing the hem of his t-shirt up his chest, and the moment her fingertips made contact with his bare skin, every rational thought he’d clung to shattered like glass.
His jaw clenched, muscles turned rigid as he fought against the fire spreading beneath her touch. His hands remained frozen at his sides, fists slowly curling and uncurling, warring between reaching for her and forcing himself to step away. The tendons in his neck stood taut, his head tilting back slightly as if seeking distance his body refused to create.
Her own breathing hitched, and he could feel the tremor that ran through her palms as they pressed against his chest. She hesitated, fingers splaying wide before contracting slightly, as if memorizing the rhythm of his heartbeat through his skin. She squeezed her eyes shut before pressing her bare chest into his, the moan that escaped her muffled in the scrunched fabric of his chest. They silently held the same desperate conflict that was ripping him on the inside.
She knew there was no future to pursuing the attraction but she didn’t know any other way to get it out of her system before she heads back. She knew he struggled with the same thing but what other option was left for them?
His forehead creased, a muscle jumping in his cheek as he stared down at her as she hid her face in his chest. Every line of his body was tense. His shoulders drawn tight, chest rising and falling with carefully controlled breaths, the slight gap that he tried to create that his body refused to obey. He was under a spell and his body was intoxicated with the feel of her velvety skin against his, the soft mounds on her chest plastered against his flesh and most of all how their hearts thundered in unison.
Finally, he moved, his hand going from his side, sliding up to her shoulder before his fingers gripped her hair. Her breath picked up and so did his. His undying need to look into her eyes made him pull on her hair, making her head tilt.
She did not resist as he gently pulled on her hair as if he wanted her to face him. She bit her lower lip but kept her eyes closed. The moment was intense and she had never felt so overwhelmed when it was her who initiated such a moment.
Moments passed and she kept her eyes closed and then she felt him move, move away and she panicked. Her eyes flew open and her hand that was on his chest slid to his back, pulling him to her as she held his gaze.
He looked frozen and something about how he looked at her, her heart dropped. She thought there was mutual attraction but she did not see that at that moment. Had she been hallucinating? He remained still and that gesture spoke volumes to her.
He didn’t want her.
Her hands began to withdraw, pulling back with obvious reluctance, but stopped when he moved his hands and it was not to push her away, but to push himself to hover just inches from her, not quite touching her as he held her gaze in the dark.
The space between them crackled, with the weight of everything they couldn’t allow themselves to feel. His eyes skimmed over her face as he held himself over her, their faces inches away. Her chin lifted almost defiantly, then dropped as if the effort of meeting his gaze was too much.
She could not look at him while she processed the rejection.
