I live for that dangerous spark—
where your eyes meet mine, and suddenly you’re imagining what I taste like. I love being the reason your mind drifts at work—yeah, that filthy thought that makes you bite your lip.
Wait — the tease that leaves you aching before I even touch you. Cool. It’s that back-and-forth tension, the same one I’m always thinking about.
Which, okay, I’m careful… but I do bite.
