Continuing on with this drabble for the time being. It keeps calling me back for more…
I knew I was asleep and I knew I was having a bad dream, but I could not pull myself out of it.
I couldn’t pinpoint what was distressing about the moment. I did not remember details, only darkness and the sensation of free falling. I was frightened.
I knew I was crying out. Even in my slumber I could hear my voice in the waking world and still I lingered in my confusing nightmare.
I finally yelled, praying it would jar me out of the sleeping state that was gripping me, holding me under.
It worked. One moment, I was struggling in the darkness and the next I was sitting bolt upright in the bed, slightly confused but profoundly grateful to be released from the trap. The sheets were resting against my waist, my fingers knotted tightly around them.
As my eyes shifted into focus, something nearby, something brilliantly white in the dark room caught my attention. I knew instantly it was his dress shirt. I turned my head slightly and my eyes met his.
He was sitting lightly on the very edge of the mattress, practically hovering over it. He had heard me calling out and it looked as though he had carefully placed his body there while he contemplated how to wake me. The concern in his eyes was evident. His brows furrowed slightly and, after a few long moments, he blinked.
He blinked and, in that split second, his gaze shifted away from my face and travelled downward.
It was then I realized he had never seen me in bed until that moment.
He didn’t know that I always slept in the nude.
I watched him as he watched me. When his eyes shifted back to mine, the mix of guilt and lust was unmistakable.
I had imagined moments like this before. I had always assumed I would cover up quickly and look away. But in that moment, I couldn’t.
I was emboldened.
I simply reclined, leaving the sheets in a twisted mess at my mid-riff.
And then I waited to see how he would respond.
When he stirred slightly, I expected him to rise from the bed and leave the room, closing the door behind him. I was nothing special in the world and would not have blamed him for doing just that.
Instead, he repositioned himself, moving up the mattress. He was closer.
My newfound bravery immediately evaporated under the heat of his approaching body. I lost the strength to maintain eye contact, but was unable to pull my gaze away from him completely. His shirt sleeve had been rolled up to his elbow and the lean but muscular forearm captured my attention. I had spent countless hours studying that part of his body, always fascinated by the strength it demonstrated. I had longed to reach out and grasp him there but had never dared.
Never dared until that night when I slid my hand slowly across the sheets and encircled him with my hand. He inhaled slightly at the contact and an instant later I felt his fingers glide along the inside of my upper arm, dangerously close to my breast.
His soft caress, so gentle, so light, soothed me. I felt my eyes close in relaxation as a light sigh escaped my lips. My hand inched upward along his arm as though it were a reflex, not a conscious choice. My grip on him tightened slightly and his words tumbled into the air.
“You’re frightened.”
I nodded, not knowing if he understood the weight of his statement. I was frightened of everything. My days consisted of shuffling one fear aside to deal with another. And in that moment, I was mostly frightened of him leaving my side.
I pulled on his arm, silently begging him.
“I’ll stay.” His whispers pierced my heart and relief spread through my entire body like an exquisite drug.
I let go of his arm and opened my eyes. My heart was pounding but with no hint of hesitation I sat up once more, closing the distance between us. His breath tickled my cheek as I reached for the top button on his shirt and undid it with a grace I never knew I could possess.
I moved down to the next button…and the next…and then the next. In mere seconds, his white shirt was open and I pushed it back over his shoulders, away from his body. With a minimum of assistance from him, I soon found the shirt between my fingertips.
I held my hand over the edge of the bed, releasing the garment from my grip. I watched with some interest as it fell to the dark floor and landed there.
Our chests were so close but not touching. I longed for the contact but, once again, my bravery was fleeting.
