Page 72 of Isolation

The last thing I can focus on is her panic.Instead, in the true form of her predator, I am only focused on how long it’s been since I have been inside her.

Forty fucking days. I can go four years without sex. But forty fucking days while she is actively in my presence is impossible.

I have lasted this long because of the horror that flickered in her eyes the last time we were together. I need to remind myself of that andtake a cold fucking shower.

I turn to Raven. “I am going to take a shower. In the meanwhile, I’d love your input on decorating this place.” My condo is bare with minimum furnishing. It's so bare that it's not even liveable.

“What would you like me to do?” Raven asks mildly.

I hand Raven a color swatch book. “Why don’t you pick a paint color? I already own the eggshell, white, and off-white paint buckets. Circle the one you like best.”

Raven is clueless on home decor. I bet she’d just stare at the swatches, trying to differentiate between eggshell, white, and off-white.

I leave her to it, and head to the bathroom. By the time I come out of the shower, Raven is under the covers. I am careful not to even look her way.

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Raven

Milo hands me a big book of color swatches, asking me to choose between the eggshell, the white, and the off-white.

Honestly, I can't differentiate between the three. Paint colors are different than the color swatches fashion designers work with. All three swatches looks white to me. Nonetheless, I try my best and choose one.

Ever since last night, something has shifted in my dynamic with Milo. His words of admission were magical. I was beyond touched.

Now, everything feels more intimate. Sexual tension is in the air.

However, Milo has barely spoken a word to me or even looked my way. We have been hanging out for weeks, joking around, digging up nostalgia. Things were starting to feel normal between us.

Now, it’s unbearably awkward.

I tried our usual jokes. I tried regular conversation. It was all met with a grunt, silence, and even less eye contact. I have no idea how to make things natural between us again.

The anti-inflammatory and the pain medication Milo gave me is not helping the case either. The after-effects of the pills on an empty stomach is causing enough dizziness to pull the covers over myself, but it’s not causing enough dizziness to blur the current visual in front of me.

Milo walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist. The covers are over my face, but I can see his slightly wet body striding into the room through the opening.

This is the most naked I have seen him in years.

Yes, years.

Every time we have had sex since I came back, he was too busy restraining me, and I was too busy fighting him off to take in his body. Now, there is no confusion.

I can see his solid back as he rummages through his closet. My eyes trail his broad shoulders, his biceps, and the contours of his back, all of which seem larger than life.

He is more than ripped.

Milo is staring at his closet in seeming frustration. I don’t believe he keeps clothing in this condo. He is presumably making the same observation as he grabs the only available change of outfit, a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans.

Milo throws his sweat-soaked clothes from the hike into his hamper, and in a quick move removes the towel from around his waist.

My cheeks are probably turning million shades of crimson as I stare at his bare ass. I am such a perverted peeping Tom.

Milo puts on the pair of jeans, sans boxers or a shirt, before turning my way to catch my drift. I feel like a kid who just got caught with their hand inside the candy jar. I should stop staring, but now I am staring at his bare chest instead of his bare ass.

Look away, Raven.

I am basically gaping at this point. I can’t stop.