All Chapters of Kiss me 2.1: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

 CLÉMENCEHe stands there, motionless before me, every muscle tense, each breath betraying the inner turmoil that has consumed him for two weeks. His gaze seeks mine, hesitant, fragile, and I immediately sense how captivated he is, how he lets himself be held by the sheer force of my presence.I remain still for a moment, letting him feel the depth of my attention. His eyes close almost immediately, and I read in his features every micro-detail: the clenching of his fingers, the subtle trembling of his shoulders, the irregular rhythm of his breathing. Each shiver is a silent confession, and I savor this vertigo I have already sown within him.I reach out, brush his cheek, then his neck, letting my fingers linger gently, as if to awaken a sensation his mind is trying to repress. His eyes close more tightly, his jaw relaxes slightly, and I feel his breath become shorter, warmer. I subtly guide his hands, his arms, each contact a silent signal,

GABRIELI think time has ceased to exist. Everything has been reduced to her, to her presence that imposes itself like an unbearable evidence. My lungs burn, each breath grows shorter, as if the air itself yields to her control.— You’re trembling, she says in a breath.Her words cling to my skin. I would like to lie, to find some remaining strength, but the truth pulses in each of my shivers. Her eyes pierce me, her silences crush me more than any sentence could.She advances, slowly, as if each step were a declaration of victory. Her shadow envelops me, and her hand comes to rest on my shoulder. Not a pressure, just an infinitesimal contact, but my body reacts as if to a jolt. A sigh escapes me. She smiles. She knows.— Still the same… fragile, incapable of fleeing, she murmurs.Her voice is so close that my lips almost catch the movement of her words. I feel her warmth, I feel what I lack and what I dread in the same instant.My heart pounds so hard I fear she can hear it. I want t

GABRIELSilence erases nothing. It does not have the gentleness of appeasement, but the weight of a stone placed upon my chest. My breath remains short, irregular, as if my lungs themselves refuse to relax. Sweat still beads on my skin, mingled with hers, and my muscles twitch at each memory of her scratches.Her marks still burn me. Each abrasion is a fresh scar, proof that I belong to her. My lips, reddened and bruised by her bites, tremble as if waiting to be seized again.I close my eyes for an instant. Grave mistake. Everything rushes back: the fever of her kisses, the violence of her hips, the merciless cadence she imposed on me. I relive it all in my flesh. And when I open my eyes again, she is there, motionless, staring at me, sovereign.Clémence breathes with an almost insolent slowness. Her chest rises, peaceful, as if she has given nothing, as if she has merely orchestrated my fall. She smiles, seeing me tense, incapable of tearing myself from her invisible grip.— Look at

GABRIELNight is long advanced when I push open the door to my apartment. The wood creaks, the lock clicks, and this sound resonates in the silence like a knell. I remain motionless for a moment, my hand still on the handle, unable to move forward. The air in the apartment is cold, frozen, as if everything here awaited a judgment I have not yet pronounced.I set my keys down on the small entryway table, and this metallic jingle seems strangely solemn to me. I remove my shoes, carelessly, letting them fall like two weary witnesses to my flight. But it is not a refuge I am returning to. It is a bare cell, where my walls stare at me like silent accusers.I do not turn on the light. The shadow protects me, hides me, wraps me in a cloak that resembles shame. I walk slowly to the desk, my steps heavy, each movement resonating like a confession. When I finally sit down, I feel my legs tremble, my heart pound against my ribs like a prisoner against his bars.Yet she is there, everywhere. Her

GABRIELThe church breathed in a tense silence, punctuated only by the creaking of wood and the rustling of the faithful's garments. I had climbed the steps of the chancel with the mechanical assurance of a man who knows what is expected of him. The cassock weighed on me like a cuirass that was too tight; I was already suffocating in it, but I forced myself to appear upright, dignified.Before me, a sea of upturned faces, attentive, trusting. Lips that still whispered a prayer, eyes that sought in mine a certainty, an answer. They had come to beg for a share of light , and I was nothing more than the shadow of a man, eroded, torn.I crossed myself, then opened the Scriptures. The pages rustled as if they had their own breath, but my fingers trembled slightly as I held them. I took a breath that was too long, conscious, like an actor before his entrance.My voice, firm at first, rose in the nave:— Beloved, he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him…At the word love, m