Page 16 of Secretly Abducted
"You can see everything I'm feeling, but I can't read you at all."
"Sure you can." I take his hand, placing it on my chest over my heart. His bioluminescence goes supernova. "Feel that? Elevated heart rate. That's what you do to me."
"That could be storm anxiety."
"It's not."
"How do I know?"
"Because I'm telling you." I keep his hand pressed to my chest. "I've been thinking about you for ten years. And now you're here, and you're brilliant and awkward and gorgeous, and you light up like fireworks when I touch you."
"I can't control it," he says, looking at where his hand rests on my skin. "The bioluminescence. It just happens."
"I know. I like it."
"You like that I have no control over my physiological responses?"
"I like that you can't hide how you feel. It's honest."
We stand there, his hand on my chest, my hand covering his. The storm rages outside, but inside this tiny shelter, everything has gone still and charged.
"Can I tell you something?" I ask.
He nods, apparently not trusting his voice.
"I know you keep looking at me. And I know it affects you. And I've been making it worse by walking around half-naked and getting in your space."
"Why?"
"Because I like how you respond to me. I like that you can't help but look. I like that you want to touch me but won't let yourself."
His breathing is definitely faster now. "That's cruel."
"Maybe a little. But here's the thing—" I step even closer, our bodies almost touching. "You can touch me. If you want to. I wouldn't mind."
He stares at me, his hand still pressed to my chest, his entire body vibrating with tension. "I don't—I wouldn't know how—"
"However you want. Wherever you want. I'm giving you permission."
His free hand rises slowly, hesitantly, like he's not sure he's allowed despite what I just said. It hovers near my shoulder for a moment, then carefully, so carefully, his fingers brush my skin.
The reaction is immediate. His bioluminescence explodes in patterns I've never seen before—gold and blue and purple all swirling together like a living aurora. His fingers trail down my arm, barely touching, but leaving trails of sensation that make me shiver.
"Is this okay?" he whispers.
"Very okay."
His hand moves to my waist, fingertips tracing the line where my underwear sits low on my hips. I have to concentrate on breathing normally, on not moving, on letting him explore at his own pace.
"You're so warm," he says, wonder in his voice. "And your skin... the texture is so different."
"Different how?"
"Smoother. Softer."
His hand moves to my back, palm flat against my spine. We're so close now that I can feel the cool radiation from his skin, the way his bioluminescence actually generates a slight warmth when it flares. His hand is still on my chest, and he has to feel how my heart is racing.
"I don't know what I'm doing," he admits.
