Burn (Virtues & Lies 1)

They’re brazen words, but the way his hand wraps around the length of my hair and tugs, tilting my face to his. I can tell he likes them.

“Or are you still just going to watch me?” I ask. I intend on it being loud and unabashed, but my voice quivers with how breathless the closeness between us is making me.

Biting my victorious smile when his jaw clenches, I take in the way his nostrils flare and I realise that I like getting under his skin and pushing his buttons. And I fucking love that he’s fighting to hold on to his own control.

The power it makes me feel is unlike anything I’ve felt before. It’s a power I’m slowly discovering, because it’s only in his surprisingly vulnerable state that he’ll let me take that control he holds on to so tight.

Stiffening as I shimmy closer, my arms hanging tighter around his shoulders so that our chests are practically pressed to one another, his hands wind tightly into my hair and pull. The hard tug pulls me back, but I force myself closer, until our bodies are moulded to one another completely.

“Don’t you want to dance with me, Leo?” Teasingly, I breathe into his ear, swaying my hips to the deep beat of music. I feel him everywhere. In the places he’s touching me and the places I want him to.

Leo’s touch sinks deep regardless of how hard or soft it is. It’s something completely new to me, and it doesn’t matter how innocent it is, it always has the same result. Unrelenting and insatiable desire.

One of his legs pushes between mine and I struggle to hold myself upright as his thick, muscled thigh tucks into the apex of mine. The friction of our bodies rubbing, the scratch of his stubble on my cheek as he moves has the heat coursing through me pooling between my legs.

Choking on my breath, I hold on tighter to him, and just as my fingers curl deeper into the hair at his crown, he fists my lengths so tight that I am completely under his control. I cannot move unless he allows me to, I am truly a puppet on his strings.

* * *

Taking a moment to savour the cool air being pumped into the carriage bar, I pull a long, cool gulp of it into my lungs. It’s surprising how quiet it is in here, considering how packed it is out on the platform. I like it though, because the brighter light allows me to see Leo better.

His face is flushed from the dancing, his hair is all messy and sweaty. I like it. I love the way he looks all roughed up with his shirt tied around his hips and his white T-shirt sticking to his body.

Quirking his brow, he grins at me as he takes the small bottles of water the bartender hands him. And as he saunters back to the muted corner he left me standing in. I swear I can smell him on me with every intake of breath.

“Thirsty?” he asks, when he reaches me. Opening the bottle, he hands it to me with a raspy command, “Drink.”

“Are you always this bo…” Looking up at him my words come to an abrupt halt.

Oh Jesus.

Leo’s gulping down his water so fast that I can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow. The longer I watch him the more I salivate and I’m sure that by the time he’s done I won’t need the water in my hand anymore.

“Always this what?” he asks, squashing his plastic bottle and screwing the lid back on.

“Bossy?” My reply sounds more like a question with how squealy it sounds.

“Always.” Eyes peering into mine, he lifts the water in my hand, bringing it to my lips before he says, “Now, drink.”

I do as I’m told because I can’t think of a comeback with the way he’s looking at me and with how close we are. Leo’s stomach is pressed up to mine and as I drink, he throws his bottle in the bin to our right.

When I finish, he takes my bottle and screws the lid back on. I can’t help but watch the way his hands move. His fingers are long and thick, and his hands look so smooth with just a barely there sprinkle of hair on the top.

Taking his black cap out of his back pocket, he swaps it for my water bottle before pulling it onto his head. I’ve never been one for hats, but I have to admit, that on him…I’m a fan.

“What now?” Picking me up and perching me on one of the padded sides, he brings his face closer to mine, tilting it when the tongue of his cap gets in the way.

“You kiss me.”

“Who’s bossy now, little girl?”

Raising my face, I tell him, “I’m not a little girl.” It comes out so breathy that it’s more of a loud whisper, and I’m surprised when he hears it with how the base is rattling the place.

Grinning, he touches the tip of his nose to mine as his hands brace by my hips. “You’re my little girl.”

“Why?” I barely manage to breathe with the way he’s running his nose over my cheekbones. It doesn’t make sense, I’m not little in any shape or form.

All of a sudden it feels just as stifling hot in here as it did on the dancefloor.