Tension.
"So are city girls different than us small town girls?" She tilted her head in curiousity, a smile full of mirth on her lips as she kicked her legs from her perch on the counter.
Sebastian eyed her, unnerved by her blatant disrespect for his belongings, but shrugged it off as he answered, "Not exactly. I never thought about it."
Harlow hummed in thought, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling as she observed the dull paint. A hand reached up, thin fingers curling around a strand of damp hair, the dark color contrasting to the fair complexion of her skin.
He swallowed, his eyes trailing down her form, and he stiffened at the sight of bare legs peeking out from the shirt that was several sizes too big for her. He trailed his gaze up creamy skin, his mouth drying at the thoughts that plagued his mind - self control dimming.
“Harlow,” He breathed. “What happened to the pants I gave --“
He stopped in mid sentence as she tossed her wet hair over her shoulder, the neckline of the shirt slipping down her arm and revealing the unmarred flesh of her shoulder, neck, and traces of her collarbone. She seemed to ignore his staring, smiling wolfishly.
“I’d like to think I’m one of a kind. I’m different than any city girl, and any girl from this town, for that matter.” Her comment was easy and innocent, but the way her eyes were glinting - like she knew something he didn’t.
In fact, it almost seemed like in her gaze, he was a mouse that was about to be pounced by a cat.
He said nothing, tearing his gaze away from her body to turn and glance at the clock.
It hadn’t been long since they both had entered his apartment, a little over an hour, and he began counting the moments til the rain would let up, and Harlow would leave.
He made a note to take a trip to the church in the morning to relieve himself of the little voices in his head that practically begged him to act out.
He ignored the gaze burning into his cheek, but he couldn’t ignore her words as she asked, “I bet your wife is one of those cute little city girls. Is she?”
His breathing hitched, head turning silently over towards Harlow, whose head was tilted, and her lips curled into a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Yes,” He answered, but the crack of his vice was apparent, and she didn’t miss it - with the way her eyes glinted with amusement. “I guess she is,”
He kept eye contact with her, his hands shaking slightly as he watched her face carefully, biting his lip as she seemed to analyze the emotions flickering across his features.
“Ah, well.” Harlow slid off the counter, and Sebastian tensed as the shirt hiked high above her leg, flashing a peek of lace at the apex of her thighs. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
She didn’t sound sorry - but what struck him most was her apology. He gazed down at her with a confused gaze, a mask of the panic and guilt he felt at her words. “I never said she was…”
He didn’t have a chance to finish, because at the next second, his space was disturbed, body tumbling back from the force against his chest. He gripped the hand that was clenched tight around his shirt, tripping over his feet as he slammed into the tile floor harshly, his breath tumbling through his lips.
The familiar scent of freesia hit his nose, strands of hair grazing his cheeks, and he gazed up into devious eyes. His hand had fallen from his grip onto hers, down onto the soft flesh of her thighs; the other held his body up from completely collapsing on the floor.
Harlow smiled, and it was the same smile from after they first met - the twisted tilt of her lips, that made her look like a brazen devil. “I’d feel a bit bad about finding interest in her husband - but you know what they say?”
She trailed her hand down the fabric of pants, fingernails grazing the inside of his thigh, causing Sebastian to break out in a sweat, his body igniting at her simple touch, and he struggled to maintain control.
Dipping her head down, he lost it as she grazed petal soft lips over his, whispering into his parted lips.
“Give no sympathy to the dead.”