There’s a kind of hunger that doesn’t fade until I feel the heat of your skin inches away—pulling the air right out of the room.
Every breath turns into a dare, and the space between us disappears fast, trading whispers for that silence that only shows up when we’re both too distracted to talk.
Which, okay… tonight I’m not trying to have a conversation. I’m trying to see how long it takes for you to lose your composure—honestly, that’s the whole point, right?
