Everytime We Touch Novels & Stories

I murmured, leaning forward until my shoulder was lightly, familiarly brushing against his arm. I didn't think about the distance. I didn't calculate the physical space between his custom-tailored shirt and my mass-market blouse. My hand automatically reached down to point at a specific cell on the screen, my fingers brushing against the side of his thumb in a slow, casual touch that had simply become part of our daily vocabulary.

How I had stopped breathing completely. I touched my lips without meaning to. What are we doing?

"Let me lead you." I hesitated for just a heartbeat, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to touch him. But not in a casual, friendly way. No, I wanted a touch that ignited every particle within me, one that promised warmth against the winter chill. Gathering my breath, I slid my palm into his. The moment our hands met sent a shock of warmth rushing up my arm, tingling across my skin like tiny fireworks. I gasped, unprepared for the intensity of the sensation, the way it made my heart leap and my cheeks blush with embarrassment.

I circled around them in everything I did. I reached for him now without thinking about it. His hand when we were walking. His arm when we were on the couch. His chest when we were in bed. I did not plan these touches. They just happened. My body reached for his the way it reached for air, automatic, necessary, the kind of thing you did not notice until you stopped doing it.

The touch of Leo’s fingers against Maya’s in the physio room had been brief but seismic. That contact had shattered their carefully maintained boundaries, sending a ripple through everything that followed. From then on, even silence between them buzzed with electricity. Their connection had grown into something more than mutual admiration. It was raw, magnetic, and pulsing with something neither of them dared name.

I reached out slowly, my hand trembling. Don't touch it. Walk away. Get help. But I couldn't stop myself. My fingers touched the shimmering air. And the world exploded.

She mutters sleepily and my brain stutters. “See, she needs us.” We don’t sleep or move for the rest of the night. My wolf is too afraid of disturbing her and we are both hypnotized by the hum of electricity coming from her touch. It’s nothing like we have ever felt before. If this is how it feels every time she touches me, I can see it becoming an addiction. No wonder mates can’t keep their hands to themselves. I’m going to have to be aware of how much physical contact we have. This could be a problem.

Being as though we share the same blood, I couldn't use the touch on them. Pity.

He growls when I breathe out deeply, the bond's effect is starting to be too much. "Of course I've touched myself before, I wash myself every day," I say honestly. I don't see how you could ever wash yourself without touching your body. He moves one of his hands from the wall when he slowly moves down and takes my hand in his, sparks play on my skin where we are touching when he slowly moves my hand up my body. I don't know what he is up to when he moves his head in front of me instead. His eyes meet mine when he looks intensely into mine while placing my hand at my breast.

and invariably ended up between my thighs, his hard-as-steel manhood rocking against my sex, while I locked my ankles around his waist, growling for him to continue. The rest of the group had to pull us apart. We tried two more times that day, and each time ended the same way-dry humping on the floor in front of an audience. Which was precisely why we had the no-touching rule. The instinct to mate was harsh, almost impossible to resist. One touch always led to another, so to be safe we simply didn't touch each other. It was hell, but the only way to refrain from completing the mate bond.