Naïve.
Pure.
I couldn’t touch her, I’d only taint her.
She deserved so much more than a man like me.
“Malcolm,” her voice whispered to my soul.
I found myself drawn to the dark corner, my feet blindly shuffling forward into the shadows as she backed up against the side of the building.
The world around me was black, but as soft, tiny fingers touched my face, I felt the warmth of the sun.
“Ingram,” I breathed out as my nose brushed against a soft cheek.
That smell, I knew that smell. Pure and sweet. Flowers and sugar.
“I missed you while I was gone,” she said and I closed my eyes.
I knew I was toasted. I was drunk. And trying too hard to run from the things in my head. But I stood there, frozen in place, wishing that all of this was real even when I knew it wasn’t.
“I missed you, too. So fucking much,” I let myself admit to the empty night air.
“Malcolm,” she whispered and damn if I didn’t love my name coming from her lips even if I knew it wasn’t real. “I have dreamt of this day. I want you so badly. Please. Please, kiss me.”
She called to me in the darkness. Her lips were right there for the taking, I felt them against my own.
I felt everything as if it was real. Her hand on my face. Her breaths against my skin. Her lips brushing over mine.
I was so tired of fighting.
So tired of holding back the thoughts that kept me awake at night.
“Please,” she said and her breath tickled the side of my cheek. I imagined how silly I must have looked, puckering my lips at thin air.
In my mind, her lips were soft and wet as I met them in a sweet kiss.
A muffled moan hit my ears and I wasn’t sure if it came from me.
Fuck, everything in this moment was perfect.
I didn’t care that I was drunk off my ass and wishing for something that would never come to be.
Right here, in this moment, I imagined Ingram was mine.
And it was pure fucking Heaven.
“You’re not real,” I said as I broke away. My head shook but I refused to open my eyes.
“I am,” she said breathlessly. “I am right here.”
“Ingram…”
“Touch me, Malcolm. Feel that I am here.”
My fingers drifted down her face, then following the curve of her jaw, I traced a line down her neck.
Her hand was on mine, guiding me down further, her wordless sign telling me not to stop. The fabric of her dress was silky against my fingers. I followed the swell of her breast until my thumb grazed over her peaked nipple. A sweet moan floated into my ears as I rolled the hard nub between my fingers.
