Chapter 8 Unforgettable Touches

• Back on her desk, Izzy tries to focus on her work but she finds it impossible. Every time she shuts her eyes, she can feel Miles’ lips on hers, warm and tender. She shakes her head vigorously as if trying to shake off the memory.
• But it’s there, etched in the corners of her mind, resurfacing every so often with a potency that makes her catch her breath. She rubs her temples, willing herself to concentrate and move on from the distracting memory.
• “Concentrate, Izzy,” she mutters to herself, forcing her eyes back on the pile of work on her desk. But it’s no use. Her thoughts keep on drifting back to Miles — his warm voice, his soft gaze, the way his kiss made her feel... and her wanting more of those gentle kisses.
• She pushes the papers away in frustration, knocking over a cup of pens. She stares at the scattered pens for a while before bending down to pick them up. As she does, a picture falls out from one of the books stacked on her desk. It is a picture of her and Miles from last summer’s carnival. They are both grinning widely into the camera, cotton candy in their hands, their other hands on each other’s waists. It feels like a century ago when things were simpler between them.
• With a heavy sigh, she places the picture back in the book. Instead of her work desk, she moves to the only couch in the room and dives back into work, trying not to look up every few minutes towards the window. But it’s as if she’s drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
• Just then, there is a knock on the door. “Izzy?” It’s Miles’ voice, soft and steady. “May I come in?”
• Izzy’s heart gives a mighty leap as she hears the sound of his voice again. It’s a sweet, deep sound that fills the air with its unique rhythm. It’s contagious too; Izzy finds herself smiling despite herself.
• She slaps her cheeks before saying, “Yes.”
• The door opens slowly, creaking slightly, and Miles steps inside. He wears a navy blue shirt now, and it brings out his eyes. However, his usual boyish grin is replaced with a more serious, thoughtful look.
• Her gaze goes to his wet hair, which he notices. “I just had a shower before coming here,” he informs, abashed.
• She returns her attention to her work, and tries to focus again, but it is hard, knowing that her mate is standing in the same room as her.
• “Can we talk?” he asks.
• Izzy swallows hard, words stuck in her throat. “No, I am still working.”
• “Can I stay then?”
• “I don’t think I can say no to that.”
• He closes the door behind him and moves towards her. And then, he stays there, beside her, quietly, as if a gorgeous statue on her sofa.
• Izzy groans and starts to anxiously fiddle with a key on her laptop — pressing it repeatedly as if it is a lifeline. Should she return to her desk? She can clearly smell his bath soap and it is making her dizzy... in a good kind of way.
• The silence stretches between them, a tangible thing that fills the room with tension. Yet, there is also a strange kind of peace that comes from knowing that they are in the same space, breathing the same air.
• “What are you working on?” he finally asks, breaking the silence.
• “Some work assignment,” Izzy replies curtly, without looking away from her screen. She doesn’t elaborate further.
• Miles waits for her to say more, but when she remains stoically silent, he decides to change tactics. He leans back onto the couch and stares at the ceiling, his arms splayed on the back of the couch.
• She sneaks a glance at him, noting the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest under the taut fabric of his shirt. His presence, so calm and casual, makes it even more difficult for her to concentrate.
• Meanwhile, Miles scans the room, perhaps absorbing a notice board filled with a hectic array of post-its, overfilled bookshelves, and a work desk that seems to tell stories of late-night efforts. Then she can feel his eyes fall on her.
• “You should stop staring at me,” she snaps, surprising herself with the sharpness of her voice. She expects him to flinch or become defensive, but he continues to stare.
• There’s a pause before he responds. “I feel like it.”
• Izzy is stunned by his forthrightness. Her heart begins to pound as though attempting to escape its cage of ribs. Miles turns his body towards her, but her eyes remain on her laptop screen even when her attention is no longer on it.
• “When the mate bond activated, my need to be near you has become even more acute,” he admits.
• “Then, you should control it,” she says, although her inner wolf screams at her to kiss and embrace him — like, right this very instant.
• “It’s almost the end of your shift,” he comments.
• “I still have a lot of work to do, though.”
• “Izzy...”
• The sound of her name coming from his lips makes her shiver, and she finally looks at him. Their eyes meet and he leans forward.
• “I want to move closer to you,” he says softly, causing her heart to flutter.
• Her mouth goes dry as her eyes dart towards the door. Escape is always an option, but one option she knows that her feet won’t take. Their mate bond is making her want this, want him, as much as she is trying to fight it.
• “I said I’m working, Miles,” she says, and yet, her eyes are focusing on his lips.
• But her dismissive response didn’t deter him. “I think we both know that you are using work as an excuse to prevent yourself from coming closer to me,” he states.
• He moves even closer, his legs and arms touching hers. The warmth radiating from him makes her shiver, especially when he reaches out and finally embraces her. His proximity is making her dizzy with desire; his scent is stronger now, and everything about him is making her stomach flutter.
• He then wraps his arms around her and, by instinct, she rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. For the first time, she realizes how rock hard Miles’ body really is, and yet, she can feel nothing but peace, more than she has in days.
• After a while, when she realizes that she is snuggling with Miles, she pulls back from him, but he pulls her back into his embrace.
• “Take a break, Izzy,” he coos, his voice soothing, the sound both unsettles and comforts her.
• “But I—” She begins to protest, gesturing towards her laptop screen, which is illuminating with a fresh batch of notifications.
• “Everyone needs a break,” he adds. “Even you. Unless I disgust you. Unless you hate every second spent in my arms.”
• “And if I say yes to all of that?” she tests.
• The muscular arms around her tighten, and she can feel a little tremble in his body. “That would hurt me,” he whispers, burying his face in her hair and taking a sniff. “A lot.”
• She takes a deep breath as she relaxes in his arms.
• “Do you hate me now, Izzy?” he asks. “Now, that I’ve become your mate? Now, that we are in this situation?”
• She doesn’t answer and just stays in his embrace.
• “When I confessed my love to you, and when I didn’t reject the mate bond as you requested, do you think low of me now?”
• Still, she keeps quiet. She doesn’t really know the answer. She is still processing these things.
• “You do, huh?” he whispers. “I should have known. You have always hated the idea of a mate bond. But please, just let me stay by your side.”
• He trembles again, and she realizes that he is crying. Even so, he is completely pulling at her heartstrings.
• Izzy takes another deep breath and says, “I don’t hate you.”
• Miles is trying so hard, and now, making him tremble in pain like this, she feels not just a bad mate, but also the worst person ever. Certainly, someone like him deserves better than the cold shoulder she’d been giving him.
• She pulls back and cups his cheeks. His eyes are still misty. He looks vulnerable and sad, and her heart shatters into pieces from seeing her mate like this.
• She turns her attention to her laptop and closes it. She can continue work tomorrow morning.
• Turning her attention back to Miles, “Fine,” she relents. “What do you want to do tonight?”