Close Quarters

by Kandi Steiner

“We’re all the center of our own universes,” Theo said. “We’re told not to be selfish, not to put ourselves first, but if not us, then who?”

“I’m growing tired of this game, Aspen.” “What game?” I asked on a breath, one that was met with his, and the cave seemed to quiet, as if it was closing its doors to all others and locking us inside. “The one where you pretend like you don’t want me,” he husked, and under the water, a warm palm wrapped around my waist. I inhaled a stiff breath, shaking violently at the touch, my eyelids fluttering as he slipped that hand around to my lower back and pulled me closer, into him, until we were flush against each other and I could feel his desire pressed against my core that ached for him in return. “And I pretend like you’re not already mine.”

Please, touch me. Please, don’t touch me and make me tell you to stop. Please, tell me again how crazy you are for me. Please, let me pretend this is all innocent.

Theo slid his sunglasses down and looked at me over the bridge of his nose. “I have spent my whole life devoted to work,” he’d said. “It’s all I’ve known. But now that I know you, I wish to never work again.”