Raspy Breaths

The rain drips down the dusty windowpane and the cool breeze dances through the cracks in the old wood. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply through my nostrils. Smoke, I think, I smell smoke. I don't panic to find out where it's coming from because I already know the answer. I stand up and stretch my aching bones from sitting on the hard, wooden chest. My thick, flannel button down falls off one of my shoulders and the sleeves slip over my wrists, engulfing my hands entirely. I cross my arms over one another and shuffle my chilled legs down the creaky hallway. The door is open slightly, and I quietly push it open more to see Bryan sitting at his desk smoking a cigarette.
"You shouldn't smoke inside," I barely project through my dry throat. It feels as though I haven't spoken or swallowed in weeks.
"I shouldn't smoke at all, but I do it anyway, don't I?" He returns without turning toward me.
I slowly scuttle into the room, sliding my woolly socks over the hardwood floor. I approach him from behind and uncross my arms, loosening my flannel yet again. It sinks over my shoulder revealing my collarbone. I stretch my arms out to his shoulders and place my cool, bony fingers on his obviously tense muscles. I begin to massage lightly and feel him suddenly release the tension from his upper body.
"Hmmm," he moans as his eyelids close slowly.
"How are you feeling today, is it bothering you?"
"No," he breathes, "Not anymore."
He opens his eyes and turns toward me, forcing me to drop my hands to my side. He looks at me from head to toe and back, examining every inch of my disheveled stature.
"God," he whispers, "You're irresistible."
He grabs my head with both of his hands and kisses me on my lips, immediately sending a current of warmth throughout my icy body. He tangles his fingers throughout my messy hair taking control of my mouth with his tongue.
"Oh," I moan between kisses, and before I know it he's pressing me up against the wall. His left hand is sliding up my shirt and grabbing at my chest, causing my skin to prickle with goosebumps under his touch. His hands and the flannel rubbing against me feel heavenly since I'm not wearing a bra. I have absolutely no control over my body as he dominates me, claiming my body as his. The quick flare of passion is overwhelming, and suddenly he's pulling away and leaving me up against the wall with a heavy, aching feeling in my stomach.
"Bryan," I start, but he cuts me off.
"I'm sorry," he blinks, "I have to get back to work."
I stand there staring at him as he refuses eye contact with me, wondering if this is because the pain is coming back.
"Bryan, does it hurt agai-"
"Lucy, please, I need to do this."
I unclench my body and pull my flannel up onto my shoulder. I can feel my weak legs trembling from the built up pressure in my body. I break my stare with his closed eyelids and finally manage to move. I grab his pack of cigarettes and exit the room, closing the door behind me.
Why won't he let me help him, I think, walking back toward the windowsill.
I sit down on the unforgiving wooden chest and press my forehead up against the cool glass. After a moment, I look down at my hands and realize I still have his cigarettes.
Might as well join him, I think and take one out placing it on my moist lips. I flick the lighter a few times before it finally ignites and light the tip ablaze. I inhale slowly, feeling the tension in my stomach release and blow it out in thick plumes of smoke through my teeth.
"Mmmmm," I groan, closing my eyes and feeling the smoke envelop me in its arms, pretending they are his.