The reader
The reader stared at the screen, his palms damp, eyes glued to the glowing text.
His breath hitched as he re-read the words, desperate for more.
This hunger, this maddening craving for her stories, it was starting to consume him.
She wouldn't dare leave him waiting another three days for the next chapter, would she?
He knew she was busy. She had a life, responsibilities, other priorities. But damn it, he was hooked.
Addicted to her words, to the tantalizing way she bled life into her chapters.
He exhaled shakily, leaning back in his chair. His throat was dry. Thirsty.
Shit.
The status light on her profile flickered. Offline.
He swallowed hard, the disappointment sharp in his chest.
He didn't want to be the guy who pressured her, who clung too tightly. She deserved her space.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he pushed away from the desk and crossed the cold room, collapsing onto his bed.
The chill of the sheets seeped into his skin, but it wasn't enough to calm the restless thoughts swirling in his head.
He hugged his pillow tight, closing his eyes, and his imagination took over.
What if it was her?
What if she was lying next to him, her big, doe-like brown eyes looking at him with that soft, adoring gaze she reserved for no one else?
She'd lean in, just close enough for her lips to brush against his in the gentlest kiss, a teasing whisper of a touch.
It wouldn't be enough.
He'd lean closer, but she'd pull away with that mischievous smile of hers, running her fingers through his hair, igniting a fire that only she could control.
And then, just as his restraint would start to crack, she'd kiss his neck, her lips trailing heat down his skin.
A sharp nip of her teeth, a bite like a damned vampire.
He'd hiss, the sound low and guttural, and she'd giggle against his throat, her feverish kisses driving him wild.
Her hands would trace the length of his arms, leaving shivers in their wake.
God, if only she'd give him another kiss. Just one more taste.
But then again, it was just a pillow.
He groaned into it, frustrated and burning with unspent energy. The clock ticked on, the room growing colder with each passing second.
Then a soft beep shattered the silence.
His head shot up, heart racing as he scrambled for his phone.
"I'm sleepy... I kinda slept off... we'll continue in the morning :)."
His chest tightened, a smile breaking across his face.
God, she's cute.
He wished for a selfie. Just one. Or better yet, to see her sleeping form in real time.
To watch the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed softly, her hair falling messily across her pillow.
He imagined pulling her close, burying his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
She'd rest her head on his chest, her ear pressed against his heart.
And he'd let her listen to the steady rhythm, the quiet, unspoken truth that it beat only for her.