Novelas y relatos de Within Arm's Reach Book

" I couldn’t breathe! My instinct to survive was triggered as I reached out to claw her strong arm and break myself free from her grip.

she said, and he smiled. He raised his hand to her lips to wipe the water, but she bent back and wiped it herself. He sat beside her, his arm bumping into hers in the process. She cringed in pains, and he quickly took her arm. "I'm fine!" She tried to take it from him, but he raised her blouse anyways, revealing the redness of her elbow. She hurt it when Roonie pushed her earlier. "How did this happen?" He asked with concern, getting a healing balm quickly.

His biceps, defined and strong, flexed ever so slightly as he lay there, one arm draped lazily across the pillow. I couldn’t help myself. My hand, almost on its own accord, reached out to trace the line of his jaw, following the curve of his broad shoulder and down to the defined muscles of his arm. His skin was warm under my fingertips, smooth, and solid—a stark contrast to the rest of him, so often wrapped in a layer of mystery and power.

My hand reached out, tracing the rough contours of his face, then, against my will, moved to brush against the flex of his bicep. He stiffened, but I couldn't stop. The close proximity, the intoxicating mix of danger and desire, was overwhelming. The cold night air and his impassive demeanor sent shivers down my spine. Yet, an inexplicable urge to close the distance between us made me wrap my arms around him, seeking warmth and comfort. He reacted instantly, pulling away roughly and pinning my arms behind my back. The pain jolted me back to reality. "Ouch! I have bones in those arms, you brute!" My protest was met with a glare that stole my breath.

close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his arm. My pulse reacted immediately. “is this okay?” he asked quietly. It was a small question. But it mattered. “Yes.” He leaned slightly toward the open page of my book. His shoulder brushed mine. “Read that line again,” he said, voice lower now. I did. My voice softer than usual. The proximity changed everything. The words felt heavier, more intimate. His fingers rested lightly on the edge of the table near mine. Not touching. Just there. A silent awareness.

I drop the book in my arms to save myself. It takes me a second to realize I'm clutching his arms—his very solid, muscular arms. My nails are digging into his black work shirt. Focus, Nora. As I hold onto his arms and he still has his hand around my arm, we both slowly look down at the book, which has fallen on the floor between us with the soft pages down. It stays up in an awkward position for one second and slowly falls over, bending the cover page that is on the bottom. We both look at the book, and silence falls.

His breath hitched. I decided to push. "And you have his hands, I think." I reached out with my own hand and placed it over his, where it was working my instep. I let it rest there for a moment, then slowly slid it up, over his wrist, his forearm. "Really strong." His whole arm tensed under my touch. His eyes met mine, wide and dark and full of a confused, burning want. I gave his arm a soft squeeze, then let my hand trail back down, "accidentally" brushing over the prominent bulge now tenting his jeans. He sucked in a sharp breath.

The move he makes to step over the line, as if it was there, was significant, forcing me back toward the bookshelves. "Not until you get over here," he tells me, this time holding his arms open as an open invitation. "I must say, I'm fine with staying here," I muse, turning around to look at the books right behind me. "With these books." I could feel and hear his footsteps, as he walks closer. What I didn't expect, was when his arms came around me, placing both palms against the shelves in front of me. The warmth from his broad chest against my back seeped through my clothes, digging shivering claws down my spine. I could even feel his breath against my ear and neck.

The sensation made me shiver. “Mmmn.” I couldn’t help the sound that slipped out, my eyes closing as my hips arched toward him. His other hand then pressed into my waist, steady and warm. Before I realized it, my hands were already resting on his broad shoulders, clutching at his white shirt as my nails dug into the fabric like a lifeline. He wasn’t gentle. That should have been a warning, or at least a deterrent, but instead, something about the roughness pulled me in. It was overwhelming, not just in the way it made my body react, but in the way it scattered my thoughts.

he whispered, offering his arm. Adeline took a deep breath and placed her hand on his arm, feeling a jolt of electricity as his fingers wrapped around hers. ***