AMELIA

Enclosed in the quiet sanctuary within the space, touching him feels inviting. I hold his face, tracing every contour with my fingers. His skin bathes in the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the car windows, giving the inside a warm, golden hue. His eyes are closed as agreed, breathing comfortably, with the warmth of his exhales hitting my face each time.

He is hypnotizing. Staring at his surreal features, his straight nose, gripping lips, and the jaws, even relaxed, are like a blade. The complexion is a mesmerizing sight, drawing me in with every intake of breath, making the simple act of holding his face a danger to my fragile sobriety. I'm now near the entrance entrance to his beauty that he hides in the shadow.

This is wrong, but no matter how I try to pull back, his hold on me is tenfold stronger, and his eyes are not even open.

Time seems to stop. Nothing matters.

My heart races as I near my face to his, feeling it radiating so many emotions and stirring typhoon within me. I gently press my lips to Cam's face in the car. The warmth of his skin, his subtle stubble beneath my touch, his original fierce scent too close to my windpipes, and the soft gentle sigh that leaves his parted lips send shivers down my spine, creating a flutter in my chest. My emotions run at an extraordinary pace; I can't help but be tender with him, cherishing deeply the feeling of this moment. It's supposed to be a peck, but I fail to stop what now turns into a soft caress of my lips against the skin of his face, and our passionate breathing becomes a silent exchange of communication.

His shaking breathing resonates and echoes throughout my entire body; my eyes closed, feeling it calling at every ounce of me. It wasn't a kiss; it was an intercourse of my lips trailing the smooth-hard surface of his skin that smelled like mint and spice. Inhaling in this proximity heightens the desperation of a mortal wanting air in their lungs; my body needs it, my heart works faster for it.

"Cam, stop me, please."

He had to have offered this to me intentionally, knowing I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

His hand comes from my wrists to the hand gently brushing over his silk lips, but he doesn't stop me. He wouldn't; he's dragging us to hell. He strokes my skin, leaving me with a warm sensation and a longing for more.

"Cam, please. I can't stop," I cry.

Instead of a reply, there is much quiet that sinks in, accentuating his audible exhale.

"This is what you want, isn't it? To force me to guilt and regret." Tears slip from my eyes down my face. I am mad at him, but even more at myself; I agreed to his dare when I knew I was feeble to fend off the desire for him.

"If only I could function with you this close to tell apart what's right and wrong," he breathes out from the mouth, the heat drilling into my pores, pressing on my defenselessness. "I don't want to stop feeling you near, nor do I want to know what it will feel like when you pull away."

"Don't tell me this." I can't breathe; my exhales are shaky and weak.

"I need you." He mutters, but it becomes the most harmful three words to ever be received and sit in my brain. It's excruciatingly hurting.

"Cam-"

"Amy, don't regret this," he retorts, cradling my face.

Wrong move when I am striving for an escape from this trap, turning all my effort to waste. I hate myself for succumbing and leaning in for comfort.

"I will. I know I will. This isn't what it is supposed to be." It's supposed to be over, but now I crave harshly for the forbidden.

"This is the most precious feeling I've ever felt," he mutters, convincing. His thumb caresses the space under my eyes. My gasps are warm, mixed with his breathing, and then I feel his lips brushing the surface of mine.

"No..." I cry, knowing I have to stop this, but my body isn't helping, and not even my mind is thinking rationally.

"Shhh...." Cam whispers, his voice deep and raspy, his big hands cupping my face tenderly, desperate to snuff out my dilemma and ease my hurting. "Do not deny it," he says against my lips. His exhale is my inhale, and mine is his. "Pride made me fight it too, but now I am sure I can never win over the inevitable. Somehow it is like there's a void inside me that has been waiting my whole life for only you to fit in it perfectly and make me whole. Your existence this nigher is healing scars I never knew were capable of closing."

"I can't breathe."

Somehow I pull out of this scary snare that is our proximity and embrace. It's like I was being shot in the chest, and I am dying slowly. I terrifiedly look for an exit, my hand fumbling with the door as I scamper out of the car.

I tug on the neckline of my dress, my mouth hanging open to pull in as much air as possible in my constricting lungs.

"Hey?" Cam's raspy voice is so close and gentle. He followed me here.

Where can I go where I will be alone?

My eyes open, looking side to side for an alternative in the parking lot, but then they latch onto his gleaming green eyes, the leverage they have on me. It should be unreal to any coherent mind.

All of this is too much for my chest. I burst into sobbing because I was done for.

"Do not cry, Princess," frowning, his fingers brush aside my hair sticking to my cheeks, "Do not regret knowing me because you are saving me."

I don't. I can't even if I tried.

I couldn't. I took all the risk and hugged him. His hand comes around me, and he rests his chin on my head. It isn't any easier there; in fact, it reminds me I am delusional, but it is what I need, so I don't let go.