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I spent weeks -- months -- believing that I was crazy.I couldn't get him out of my head. Just being in the same room as him, it felt like he was taking in all of me. Every inch was in his control.
I tried to cover it all up with talk; a defense mechanism. It didn't work.
I tried to forget he ever existed but it's hard to ignore a man who jumps through your window with no warning and slams you against a wall.
It's even harder to ignore someone who compels me to want to know more. Every new detail made ignoring him even more impossible.
I still managed to stay away enough though that he could never tell how I felt, then the wall had to break.
He had to break the wall that I had built so carefully, and it became so much worse. He's sitting next to me on a broken couch in a burnt home and looking at me with such vulnerable eyes. A kiss. Unexpected but so perfect and right.
My body reaches out for him like it's finally figured out how to breathe and is desperate for ever bit of air it can get. A hand on my face becomes hands running down my chest, up my shirt and running across my stomach.
A flash of hands. Ripping clothes. Caressing bare skin. Pulling. Pushing. Rubbing. Loving.
By the end of the night, I have a fresh pair of claw marks gracing my sides to show off. He kisses each mark and sparks memories of those hands. He whispers to me promises of mine and mate.