That was all it took. The air shifted. The background noise of the bar faded, replaced by the thrum of her pulse visible at her throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off that spot—where the chain met skin, where her fingers lingered.
When they left, the night air was cool, but her body heat carried between them. Walking side by side, her hand brushed his, not by accident, not tentative. Slow motion again—her pinky grazing his, her wrist turning so the back of her hand pressed against his knuckles before finally, deliberately, sliding her palm into his. Her skin was warm, electric, the kind of touch that made his chest tighten.
At her doorway she turned, the necklace still in her grip. She pulled it forward, drawing the chain tight across the back of her neck, tilting her head slightly as if exposing herself, waiting for him to notice. He stepped into her space, so close his breath fanned across her cheek. He didn’t kiss her right away. He let the anticipation coil, his hand lifting to trace her jawline with his thumb. Her eyes locked on his, wide, hungry, unblinking.
Then he kissed her. Not gently. Not cautiously. She met him with the kind of hunger that silence had been disguising all night. Her lips opened fast, tongue pressing forward, her body pressing him back into the wall of her entryway. The chain dug into her throat where she’d pulled it tight, and his fingers slipped under it, sliding against the warm, sensitive skin there. She gasped into his mouth, sharp, shaky, as if that spot—the one she’d been playing with all night—was wired directly to the part of her that wanted to give in.
Her necklace became their signal. Every time his hand caught the chain, tugged it lightly, she melted further, her legs parting, her moans breaking past lips that had been sealed shut for too many months. She wasn’t quiet now. Every breath was raw, every movement urgent, her body arching under his hands like she’d been preparing herself for this exact release.
Later, tangled against him, her necklace resting crooked across her collarbone, she finally laughed—a deep, throaty sound. “You thought I was bored, didn’t you?” she whispered, tracing his chest with her fingertips.
Michael shook his head, kissing her temple. “No. I thought you were daring me.”
And Rachel smiled, sliding his hand back to her chest, guiding it over the chain once more. “Good. Because I was.”
