Asa’s eyes flashed and within the blink of an eye, he stepped closer, one of his hands grabbing Carmen’s waist in an iron-tight grip and pulling her flush against his chest. The camisole she was wearing did nothing to conceal the raw feeling of both their torsos pressing into each other, every hard plane of his chest digging into every soft curve of hers.
His other hand slid up her back in an excruciatingly slow manner, the tips of Asa’s nails grazing her skin through the flimsy material, before his fingers slipped into the strands of her hair, tangling themselves into her long, dark locks.
“I could get used to this,” he told her in a rough voice, eyes flickering to her lips and then back to her eyes.
“So could I,” she breathed out, the edges of Asa’s abs carving themselves into her own body as he pulled her impossibly closer.
His voice dropped a few octaves. “I like the sound of that.”
Asa’s eyes fell on her lips again, and this time he didn’t look back up at her within a matter of seconds, allowing his heated gaze to linger on her mouth intentionally.
“Of course, you would.” She lifted her lips into a smirk, rolling her eyes.
“You speak too much, you know that?”
“And you’re not doing such a good job of shutting me up right now,” she told him breathlessly.
“No?” he murmured, tilting his head as his eyes continued to memorise the curves and dents of her lips.
The fire around them continued to roar and engulf the two of them as if it was burning away all the pain and the anger and the regret, cleansing them of the past few agonising months. They felt the heat seep out of their bones, trailing down their skin until it turned to smoke and dissolved into the air, getting carried away forever.
Carmen shook her head, feeling Asa’s fingers tighten in her hair. “No,” she whispered.
Asa started moving again, pushing her backwards as his arm clung to her waist like it was coming home after being away for far too long.
And then Carmen was being pushed past the bed and against the wall, Asa’s hand behind her back preventing the blow of the hard surface against her body. Carmen’s heart fell a little more right then, because even when caught in the heat of the moment and being driven by the intensity of their situation, he was still taking care of her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I love kissing you,” Asa said hoarsely, curving his body further into Carmen’s. “Or how much I enjoy it when you run your fingers through my hair.” He dropped his forehead to hers, the side of his nose massaging hers, as his lips remained a breath away from her own. “Or how the curve of your hips are my hands’ favourite place.”
Fireworks. Those had to be fireworks—the things that were exploding in the pit of Carmen’s stomach, in the middle of her chest, and in every dark corner of her mind.
He pressed her further against the wall. “You drive me insane, Carmen West, and all I want to do right this moment is kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until you forget your own goddamn name.”
“I told you this on the night of that party,” Carmen mumbled. “But you’re just so whipped.” A light, silvery laugh escaped her lips.
Asa raised his brows. “You know, just for that comment, I’m not going to kiss you for the rest of tonight.”
Carmen hummed in response before she lifted her hands, sliding them up the hard indents of Asa’s chest, sweeping them over his broad shoulders and then lacing her fingers together at the back of his neck, playing with the strands of hair there. Leaning forward and dragging her chest up against his own, she rose on her feet and angled her face upwards, covering his mouth with her own in a knee-buckling, soul-satisfying kiss.
Asa clung onto his resolve to not engage in it for a few more seconds, before that resolve shattered and went up in the flames of the fire consuming them in that moment. Then he was responding to the kiss with just as much fervour, if not more, his chapped lips hungrily enveloping Carmen’s soft ones.
“Asa,” Carmen gasped as she pulled away mid-kiss, needing to do something before they got carried away. “Asa, wait.”
He groaned into her mouth. “Right now?” he grumbled. “What is it?”
“I need to give you something.”
Asa’s brows furrowed and he took a step back. “Okay?”
“Um” —she pushed herself off the wall and stepped around him— “it’s in my bag. Just wait here.”
Asa dropped down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, as he watched Carmen head towards where her bag was lying on the floor before she picked it up and dug something out of it.
“Here,” she said softly, seating herself down next to him on the bed, their thighs pressed against each other’s. He looked at her hands, where a deep red, leather-bound spiral book was.
“What is that?” he asked curiously.
“An art journal,” she told him, a tender smile lighting up her face.
Asa’s confusion only grew. “Your journal is blue. Did you get a new one?”
Carmen shook her head. “No. This one’s yours…” She paused. “At least, the one that you inspired me to create anyway.”
Asa stared at her with awestruck eyes, rendered speechless like so many other times she’d managed to do to him. “I… Carmen, I don’t—I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything.” She smiled.
Asa swallowed and looked down at the book in his hands before flipping it open. His eyes landed on the first page, sweeping over the calligraphic writing engraved into the rough texture of the paper;
To Asa,
Who is the definition of warmth,
