I’d maintained distance, resigning myself to friendship—albeit uncomfortable, considering your immeasurable charms.
Then one day, I dared a closer look. “What are you thinking?”
Your eyes penetrated. “If I told you, you’d run.”
“Then, show me,” I whispered.
You introduced me to your fingertip first. It drew a line down my cheek before trailing my spine. I shivered.
A slow, intimate kiss followed; you’d paid attention to my stories.
Tumbling together in bed, you showed me what I’d been missing. Our passion released the tension between my thighs.
And when you pulled out, I cried, immediately missing you.
