True Feelings Revealed
"It never ends." I sighed and plopped down on the edge of the couch in the living room of our suite.
"If it did, you'd be out of a job," Yelena replied. She was right. Even though working for the Commander was tiring at times, I'd have nothing else better to do with my life. Or would I? No, I had acquired the skills specifically for this job.
During my reverie, Yelena had floated over to the couch and squeezed behind me. Utter confusion paralyzed me, preventing me from acting or thinking. Her knees were on either side of me. At first I speculated why she would try to fit into a tight spot next to me, until I remembered she was drunk. I felt her hands squeeze my neck. I froze. What was she doing?
Ah, of course. Even though I knew Yelena could never do anything harmful to me and therefore wouldn't try, I still didn't expect a massage. I relaxed a bit. I thought it a bit bizarre that she was massaging my shoulders and neck but I didn't fight it. A thought crossed my mind which caused my heart rate to increase. Maybe Yelena's feelings toward me are as strong as mine toward her. It was probably why she already felt comfortable being so close to me. I quickly cast away that notion, fearing its invalidation. Instead I focused on Mogkan and his possible motives, and just accepted Yelena's massages as a simple friendly gesture. I was always good at suppressing desires and unwanted feelings.
Then she spoke, her breath in my ear causing a slight jolt in the pit of my stomach. I struggled to relax.
"What would you do if suddenly the world was perfect and you had no one to spy on?"
"I'd be bored," I said automatically, going back to my original thoughts on having skills in this life that can be used justly only toward working for the Commander.
"Come on, seriously. A change in profession." She pressed into the muscles at the base of my neck. I must admit, her massage was absolutely wonderful. I let my heavy eyelids drop as I tried to consider what place I'd have in her world. "A fire dancer?" she suggested.
"No. An arms teacher?"
"No, its a perfect world. No weapons allowed." I raised my eyebrows. I factored in that twist. What kind of world doesn't have conflict? Yelena then moved her hands down my back and spoke again. "How about a scholar? You've read all these books lying around, haven't you? Or are they just to make it difficult for someone to sneak in?"
A scholar. Hmm, I wasn't sure I'd use these books just to become a scholar. "Books serve me in so many ways. But I doubt your perfect society would need a scholar on murder," I replied, still thinking.
"No, definitely not," she said.
A thought came to mind when I remembered the rocks scattered round my room. "A sculptor? I could carve extravagant statues. We could redecorate the whole castle and liven things up." I finally had my answer and was now curious for hers. "How about you?" I became painfully aware that she moved her hands down to my lower back.
"Acrobatics," she said.
"An acrobat! That explains a lot." I recalled the time I saw her gliding through the trees as the pretend fugitive for the assassin exercise. I was amazed at her skill and ability. Never had I expected such creativity in her defenses against the soldiers who hunted for her. It had earned her a respect and appreciation from me.
Yelena sighed audibly and her hands slipped under my arms to my stomach during my musing. I felt her rest her head on my back as she rubbed my stomach slowly. I was caught in the moment; it was so peaceful. Yelena and I had just established our roles of what we thought we'd have in a perfect society and at that moment, I wished it were real. I didn't want to move or speak in fear of ruining it all.
Her strokes on my stomach lengthened and I closed my eyes, feeling her touch. I could have sworn I felt her lips on my shoulder. Just then, her hands brushed a bit lower, past my belt. I stopped breathing. I hadn't realized how aroused I was until she touched me.
It turned out I wasn't imagining things. Yelena kissed my shoulder again, her supple lips leaving my skin with a soft suction sound. Her fingers, trailing along my stomach, continued to venture below my belt. I exhaled sharply, surprised at myself for letting her continue with this. Was I just being nice and letting her have her fun? I didn't dare move a muscle but at that moment I realized I badly wanted to. This mental confession amazed me. I wanted her, but I would not allow myself to get past that point of no return. She was making that rather difficult, however.
I felt her shift. She kneeled up behind me, now kissing my neck and behind my ear. I felt her breasts rub against my back on her way up. My mouth fell slightly open as bursts of electricity shot through me. My hips involuntarily jerked forward the slightest bit, undoubtedly encouraging Yelena. The muscles in my stomach clenched.
I suppressed a moan. Her slight fingertip brushing over my throbbing erection was something I had never felt before, especially from a woman whom I was so attracted to. I could not believe I had spent thirty-three years of my life ignorant to this incredible sensation.
It was finally clear in my mind that my feelings for her romantically were very real and very much intact. Everything felt right. Everything except one detail, I realized as my heart fell. One detail that could change the whole dynamic between Yelena and me.
The brandy in her breath was suddenly blatant to my senses. She had slightly increased the pressure of strokes on my erection and fingers had begun to unfasten my pants. She was drunk. How was I sure she really felt romantically toward me? How did I know she wouldn't do the same to Rand? The mere thought made me shudder, hoping that would never happen. I wouldn't want to slay the best cook we've had.
These thoughts chased away my excitement. I grabbed her hands and lifted them from my pants before she could undo the button. They were warm and delicate. I immediately regretted disturbing the course.
"Yelena you're drunk." I could hear the effects of my arousal in my voice. My throat was tight and I ached desperately for her touch again. However, I stood up and faced her. Her body heat had warmed my back, causing a chill in her absence. Yelena gaped in surprise. The arousal dripping from her gorgeous eyes was ever present. It was then I could see she was genuinely hurt that I took her hands off me. I paused and stared at her.
I wanted to ravish her and do her beauty, everything I loved about her, and everything she deserved some justice. I wanted to hold her in my arms and bury my face in her neck as I made love to her.
Instead of leaving her at the couch, I swooped down to pick her soft fragile body up and carried her to her room. During the walk, I cradled her to my chest. I never wanted to let her go but I hesitantly laid her down on her bed and held a solid expression devoid of any emotion.
That moment, I debated very heavily between getting into bed with her and turning around to leave the room. What if she awoke sober the next morning with memories of this night and felt as though I intruded? She would be disgusted with me. Our friendship would cease to develop. I wouldn't be able to bear having that uncomfortable feeling between us or for her to go through any emotional pain. Then again, her kisses seemed pretty determined. Before I could convince myself otherwise, I stepped away.
"Get some sleep, Yelena," I said quietly to her. The dismal look on her face haunted me that night. I took a deep breath and told myself it would all happen in good time. No one knew how I felt towards Yelena but one day, I would confess my feelings to her. It just wouldn't be today.