Unable
Danny and Michelle
The colors --
The colors were insane, wild and intense. The pale ivory of her soft skin, the coral pink of her lips, the chocolate of her eyes, the shadows under the curve of her neck, and the golden strands of her hair.
And the smells encased him, lighting his skin on fire with an ache for her. She surrounded him with hints of freesia, and all the time he craved her, wanting her more and more with every passing breath. His fingers clenched to keep from reaching out to her. His ebony eyes darkened every time she smiled at him. His heart shattered every time she shuddered away from him in anger and fear.
And she knew it. She knew that every time he leaned in close to her pulse point, his voice vibrating against her skin, inhaling her freesia perfume, she shuddered away in anger that he could slither into every crevice of her heart and in fear that he could take it in his hand and crush it.
He was her husband in name only, but Michelle could feel the ice chipping away from her heart at every gaze he sent her, every whispered promise to keep her safe, every long night she went without touching him as he slept beside her.
Danny was tattooed in every inch of her mind. She was unable to think or eat or sleep. She wanted him to caress her with those powerful hands that she knew could cause so much damage and could make her tingle with the sweetness of his gentility.
And Michelle didn't want to feel for him.
"Michelle?"
She looked up at him, fear and anger in her eyes. Danny saw the emotion, not the reason behind it. His fingers gently came up to touch her cheek, and her shuddered shut. Michelle inhaled sharply, reveling in the feel of his touch.
"It's going to be okay, I promise." Danny whispered, moving away to his side of the bed, clicking off the light, and Michelle was again left alone to lie in bed, wishing he'd reach out to her.
But what she didn't know was that he was wishing for the same thing.