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Word Prompt: Lethargic

Not beta'd.

My universe shrinks when I feel his mouth press against mine. It's just him and me and the warm, welcoming softness of our connection.

I haven't been this close to anyone in a long time, and the last time I was, the chemistry was dim and pale compared to the technicoloured attraction I feel for Masen. His nearness is overpowering in the most pleasant way. Broad shoulders and a defined chest, he's bigger than I'd realized now that our bodies are lined up, his almost curled around mine. It makes me feel protected and desired, and he isn't even touching me.

Our kisses are innocent—tender, slow brushes that explore and test the newness. I get the distinct sense he's holding back. His intensity is palpable, charging the air around us.

All too soon he's pulling away and staring at me with what looks like fear. If I had to guess, I'd say he's freaking out. He doesn't speak and I don't push. I gaze back at him with reassurance, allowing him the opportunity to gather his thoughts and hopefully calm down.

"Bella, I..."

The hint of regret in his tone is like the twist of a knife, even though he seems to have thought better of whatever he'd planned to say.

Then he's closing the distance again.

One, two, three kisses, all more insistent. His intensity is slipping through cracks in his control. I give back everything I'm feeling, mirroring his ardour. My hands rest on his waist. I want to pull him closer, press against him, wrap my arms around his neck, but I won't until I know we're on the same page. A war is raging inside his head, even as his body is mutinying.

A loud buzzing jolts us out of our bubble. He steps back, running a hand through his hair and staring expectantly.

"The dryer... I set the stove timer so I wouldn't forget."

"I'll go get your stuff for you." The words tumble out of his mouth quickly, almost nervously.

"Thanks, but I can do it," I say. "Make yourself at home and I'll be right back."

As I step around him, his hand touches my forearm to stop me.

"Let me."

There's a quiet insistence in his voice that matches the pleading in his eyes. The kiss wasn't planned so maybe he needs a second to collect himself. It's the least I can do for him. I just hope he's not feeling vulnerable or uneasy about what happened. It wouldn't be unlike him to overthink the situation.

"Are you sure? I don't mind doing it."

He smiles, but it seems forced. "I'm sure."

I give him the benefit of the doubt and return his smile. After a quick explanation about where to find the laundry room, he walks out the door with an empty basket.

I plop down on the couch, feeling almost lethargic. There's nothing like a kiss from a hot guy to turn you into a limp noodle. Replaying our lip-lock is almost as good as the first time around, leaving me tingling in all the same places. The potential between us is so much bigger than I've ever experienced before. It's like an energy that echoes between us, energizing and enlivening. The sense of belonging it fills me with is almost dangerous, making me feel like I can do no wrong, that I'll always be forgiven. I know it isn't real. I can do plenty to screw things up, and forgiveness is never a guarantee, but I can't overlook the completeness that floods my system when he's touching me.

Masen is gone almost fifteen minutes. Even accounting for my building's exceedingly slow elevator, it's longer than expected. With a soft knock, he walks in with a solemn look on his face. He puts the basket down on the couch and speaks staring at his shoes.

"I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm glad you did."

He scowls at me, brow furrowed and mouth turned down, clearly displeased with my response.

"Bella, I can't do this."

"Do what?" I ask, taking a step towards him. "Hang out with me? Retrieve my laundry? Kiss me?"

He points back and forth between us.

"I don't want this."

The emphasis in his voice is like a slap in the face.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Every thought in my head screams 'bullshit.' He may not want to validate what's happening between us, but that doesn't mean it's not happening.

He glares at me, waiting for me to challenge him, but I don't want to egg him on or make him defensive. The situation is volatile enough as it is.

After an awkward pause, he says, "I can't… I just can't do this with you… or anyone, for that matter. I don't want you to think it's you, because it's not. It's one hundred fucking percent me."

"Okay." I nod again, looking into his eyes as I inch a little closer to him.

"You're great, Bella. You're… It's just that… well, I… fuck!"

Faster than I can blink, he's kissing me again, hands gently cupping my face. How can he hold me so preciously and not want me? How can his lips be tender and giving if I'm not significant to him in some way? How can he kiss me again, knowing it could break my heart, if he didn't want to protect it in some manner?

It takes everything in me to keep from unleashing my enthusiasm on him. Overwhelming him is a real possibility, plus I can't ignore the contradiction in his words and actions. I think we're both a little bewildered, albeit for different reasons. I'm afraid to lose our emotional connection, and he's afraid to commit to it.

He grunts when I don't respond with the same fervour. His fingers drop away from my cheeks to grasp my hips. Though he can't pull me any closer, he tries, insistently tugging me against his body. His muscles bunch beneath my hands, further hinting at his frustration. I hate the guilt it stirs in me. Upsetting him was never my goal.

I give him more, starting with a gentle slip of my tongue. My lack of resistance is welcomed by a groan and a quiet sigh. The sounds leave me smouldering. It's so hard to be patient, and before long, I wrap my arms around his neck and throw caution to the wind.

His hold on me, the way he kisses me—he's like a man possessed. I hope he understands how happy I am to surrender to him.

Minutes pass. Everything around me seems muted and blurred. Time is defined by the sweep of his lips, the press of his fingers, and the thumping of his heart. I'm overrun by heat and sensation and wanting, physically aching with raw need for him. He's already pushed my tank top up to touch my skin. I decide to take it a step further and begin to remove it.

His hands still mine. He pulls back but not away, and rests his forehead against mine. His chest heaves for breath.

"I can't." He forces the words out between pants, almost as though they're painful. For a moment, I'm paralysed with fear, then he speaks again. "Holy shit, I can't… what are you doing to me?"

I realize his eyes aren't open. He's just muttering to himself, not rejecting me. I kiss his lips chastely, followed by the tip of his nose. It's a more appropriate response than any words I can come up with.

His arms wrap around me, squeezing.

"I've never…"

He's trembling.

"Me either," I say. I don't want him to worry about articulating what he's feeling. I'm not sure I could.

He looks into my eyes, seriousness piercing, evaporating the lusty fog surrounding us.

"We need to talk, Bella."

A/N: Thanks to all the readers!

I took the time to answer reviews from the last chapter. It's been way too long since I got to talk to you guys. I hope you know how much your support means to me. I couldn't ask for better readers. If I missed anyone, please let me know.

So what did you think of Masen's response? Was it what you thought it would be? And what do you think the next chapter holds? I'd love to hear your thoughts.