Bee and Temp

Two arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards into an alcove. She was surprised, that was the only reason he got her like that.
“Temp!” She laughed, squirming in his arms, trying to turn. He was stronger than she’d thought and she jumped when their bodies touched.
His warm breath was in her ear and she shivered, suddenly cold and hot at once. He kissed behind her ear, working his way down her jaw-line as his hands spread open over her chest. Her face was on fire.
“Templar…” She said, more softly now, heavy with numbing uneasiness and a bubbling excitement. Her body trembled, she could not feel her legs, and her stomach seemed to be dancing. She leaned into Templar as his arms relaxed. Her attention shrunk until all that existed was the fiery touch of his lips as they travelled from her shoulders to her neck.
“Templar…” She breathed again, her laugh trailing into a moan, “we can’t do this…” she felt on the edge of control, “At least… not here.” His lips had reached her cheeks. “Not…” He kissed the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted…
Suddenly a loud shot rang out. There was one shrill, grating scream and people started to stream into the hallways, past their alcove. They were weeping, screaming, shouting, pushing, shoving, and moving in all directions. Beatrice pulled away to look out into the hall. The maids were running with the ladies. Everyone was in a state of undress, fear etched on all their faces. They cried, “The King! The King is dead!”
Beatrice stilled. She turned to Templar and found him immediately behind her making her take a few steps back. His face was in shadow but his mouth was illuminated, stretched into a frightening smile. She screamed and tried to push him away as he advanced on her but he just pushed past her, red fire in his eyes, and slipped into the crowd. But she was not free yet; someone had grabbed hold of her. Someone was shaking her.

“No!” She said forcefully, opening her eyes.
“No!” She yelled, struggling against his arms.
“Bea! Bea! Beatrice. Calm down. Beatrice.” He said. She quieted at the sound of her name, and, her heart still thudding wildly against her ribs, looked up to find Templar leaning over her.

It had been a dream.

Her eyes fell on his lips and she found herself blushing furiously, images from the dream still flashing through her mind. His face changed from worry to unsettled as she continued to stare up at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” She said, mortified. Giving her a strange look, Templar pulled away as she rose, straightening her nightgown as she did so, running her fingers through her hair.

Leaning over, Templar pushed her back onto the bed, passionately kissing

“I think you should go.” Beatrice said abruptly, feeling a new wave of heat flood her face.
“Okay, okay!” He laughed, pleased to see a bit of her old self, as she practically pushed him off her bed.