You Know I Love You
"You know I love you," he purrs in her ear, and she smiles. "You know that, don't you?"
She nods her head, his lips pressed on her neck. She doesn't know if what they have is love, but it's something. Anything. "Yeah."
"Don't you love me?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Of course," she rasps, and she can feel him smiling against her skin.
"I don't have to leave for another hour," he tells her, hand traveling down her arm. She gets goosebumps, shivering against him.
Her breath catches in her throat, and all of a sudden she's nervous. "I...don't...my mother might be home soon."
"Isn't that half the fun?" His breath is hot against her throat. "Knowing we might get caught?"
She shakes her head, backing away from him. "No...I...don't want to get in trouble."
His face falls, and she feels guilty. She wants him, but she doesn't. It's complicated."Oh. You're...you're right. Don't want to get in trouble."
"Maybe tomorrow you can come over?" She offers, and he's smiling again. "You know, if you...if you wanted to."
"I'd like that," he says, smoothing his hair down. He pulls on the sleeve of her dress, drawing her closer. She doesn't fight it, and he kisses her on the lips. She doesn't like him. In fact, she hates him. Hates his hair, his clothes, his shoes, his smile, his lips. Hates the way she can't stop what they're doing.
She hates his hands most of all. His hands, always touching, always wandering to places that she doesn't want them to. They dance across her skin, and she hates, hates, hates it. He picks up his dinner jacket from the floor, giving her one last appreciative look before he opens her front door. She feels like punching him.
"See you tomorrow, Brenda."
"Goodbye, Corny."
Short, I know. But it's kind of a drabble; not technically, since it's too long to be a drabble. Kind of in between a drabble and a story. Why don't they have a name for stories like these?
This author note is probably longer than the whole story. ;P