Page 5 of Tempted
“Oh.”
“Mhm.”
“You must hate looking at me,” I cringe.
“I don’t actually. Seeing you has brought back a lot of memories; us growing up together, laughing and playing, falling in love, and then falling apart. She taught me so much once upon a time. It wasn’t all bad, and there were a lot of moments we had together when I’d finally felt like I was enough to earn my place at her side. When I realized it would never be unless it was all or nothing, I overreacted and before I had the chance to make amends, she was gone.”
“Why do you keep acting like you’re ancient?”
“I look young for my age,” he says with his lips quirking back up into a shy smile. It’s the most genuine his features have looked so far.
“Well then, old man. How about we walk down the beach and you can tell me all about your Zii and why you never felt like you were able to earn her love.”
I can’t remember a time when I laughed this hard, though for the life of me, I don’t know why everything seems as funny as it does. Eventually as the day went on that overwhelming trance like feeling settled a bit, though it never fully went away. More like, my body adjusted to the strange sensation. I still couldn’t believe that I’d willingly opened up to a stranger and even weirder still is that I cannot physically make myself ask about it. Any time I’ve tried to ask my new friend if he’s some sort of hypno-therapist or something, the words stay firmly planted in my mind and like a dam holding back water, the words remain there.
Instead, we’ve talked about everything under the sun. We both have a love for archeology and learning. I’d wanted to ask him if he were a student here as well, but before I could, he’d started dancing, pulling me into the low tide and whirling me about in the ocean in front of the setting sun.
It was magical, and by that point I’d forgotten all about my reservations of him being a stranger, and anything else I’d managed to have on my mind throughout the day. I was too caught up in his spell—too caught up in him. I’ve never felt so close to a person before.
Now we’re sitting on a blanket, one he’d had in a bag he’d brought with him on his own adventure before he ran into me, and we’re telling each other ghost stories about the island.
“It’s true, this land once housed a tribe of ancient magical beings. They were giant in nature—tall, strong, and mighty—but mostly they were healers of the earth, the skies, and even the heart and mind. They’re magic came from the Grandmother Goddess and is still said to be hidden away on the island in the place where no human can go.”
“And what makes you believe it’s true?”
“Do you believe in magic?”
“I mean, that’s a complicated question,” I tell him, nervous that I’m about to sound really crazy.
“It’s quite literally a yes or no question,” he chuckles.
“It’s not though, is it?” I ask, scrunching my nose and shaking my head. “Because if you’re asking me if I believe in the flashy hocus pocus of a magician, or illusionist, or people who put on shows of voodoo and the like for a crowd of tourists, my answer is no. If you’re asking if I believe that there’s magic in our intuition and that the elements of our world hold powers unknown, or if I believe in the healing properties of faith—be it from any walk of life—then my answer is a resounding yes. I think there’s magic in meditation and walking on the beach with the sand between your toes. I believe in trusting our gut instinct, or that a simple touch from one person to another is healing. Even laughter, or any emotion really, is the magic of human nature. I think that the world is full of enchantment, and we miss out on the best parts of it every day.”
“That’s quite… astute for someone so… young,” he says, staring at me in that way again, like he’s trying to see beyond who I am.
It’s as if he’s looking for the very magic of my own soul, and I get the chills in response. There’s been so many random moments like this in our day together, and I wish I could get over it or follow my instincts and go home. I can’t for the life of me understand what’s keeping me here, nor why it’s so hard to remember that I’m feeling this way.
I genuinely feel like a crazy person. One minute I’m swoony for this guy and the next, the fog lifts and recognition sets in, but then it’s gone again and I’m right back in his… whatever this is.
“Or for someone who’s only friends in life have been the elements of the world around her and the occasional tribal member of whatever lands she visited,” I retort, grimacing at the pathetic truth of my words. “Or maybe it’s just that I believe in fairytales and the stories of those long lost, only passed down through generations of those people, thankful to have heard so many of them over the years. There’s something that soothes me in those stories. There’s something raw and true about real history and what you can find if you look beyond what the media tells you or a random article circulating on social media. There’s something healing about what comes from the truth and the nature surrounding it.”
“The sadness you carry on your heart does something strange to me. Your quest for something real though, that’s what intrigues me the most. I want to know you. Ineedto know you,” he says, sweeping an errant hair from my face and trailing a lone finger down my cheek.
I shiver, though I can’t place if it’s out of pleasure or something else and not knowing is setting me on edge. When he leans in closer and brushes his lips across mine, I intuitively want to pull back as much as I want to lean in.
Only… I don’t. Pull back, that is.
Instead I lean in closer to him and seal my lips to his, fighting every instinct I have for a taste of this man who seems to want me and my attention. A man who wants to give me his attention in return.
When his tongue traces the seam of my lips, I grant him his wish and open up for him. When his hands roam the length of my body, I push myself further into his touch. And when he strips me bare and takes me as his own, I accept his hard length into my body as if we were one.
It’s as if I’m blinded by pleasure, only I’m unsure I’ll ever reach the height of an orgasm, and when he comes deep inside of me, I redress quickly and don’t give it another thought as I lead him back to my house for more, hoping to actually come with him during round two.
Chapter Three
Felix
Thethemeoftheday seems to be the monotonous drone of endless boring welcome lectures and syllabi coverage. Thank god for the coffee cart outside my Intro to Archeology class, or I might fall asleep before I even make it to my seat in the lecture hall. It’s wonderfully my last class of the day though.
