enemy

The spark between you had always been not the warmth celebrated in novels, but a sharp, prickly hostility. Now, squeezed in a tight space, your gazes locked once again. Your enemy, breathing heavily, spat out through clenched teeth that this was all just an accident, a momentary weakness, and that there was absolutely nothing between you. His voice was firm, but you saw his pupils dilate treacherously as you leaned forward. Ignoring all logic and his protests, you covered his lips with yours, cutting off his stream of excuses with a bold kiss. He froze, momentarily petrified by such impudence, but he didn't push you away. You continued to tease him, pouring into this touch everything unspoken that had been pent up for months. Just when you decided to pull away, his fingers suddenly gripped your clothes with a death grip. He yanked you sharply toward him, closing the barely discernible distance, and pressed his forehead to yours. His voice, now low and hoarse, sounded against your lips: — Hey... don't stop... but... there's nothing between us...