I rolled over, the crumpled white sheets moving with me. I never could manage to sleep past 9:30 — the sun always woke me up, no matter how much I tried to fight it.
The space next to me was still warm. I couldn’t tell if the faint scent of Bleu de Chanel was coming from the pillow or from my body. I smiled to myself when I realized it was both.
I blinked my eyes open, squinting against the sudden brightness, wondering if you were still in bed. I found myself alone.
Sitting up, I reached for the first swatch of fabric I could find. It happened to be your favorite grey t-shirt, the one you got after you ran that race back in high school. The soft cotton felt like a warm hug, enveloping me in your fragrance.
You were in the kitchen, with a pot of coffee brewing. I watched you from behind, the way your muscles stretched taut against your smooth skin, tanned from the surprising June heat. You rotate your wrists, letting them crack while you sigh. I follow the rise and fall of your shoulders. You sense my presence and look over your shoulder. You smile, and I admire the beautiful way your eyes crinkle up at the corners. You turn and stretch out a hand. I take it and you pull me closer, into your heat.
I melt. Like I always do. In your heat, I melt, like a popsicle in the middle of July.
Tracing my fingers over your tattoos, I don’t meet your eyes. I let my hands do the talking, while yours slide down my waist, resting on the curve beneath that grey cotton t-shirt. The rough fingers of your large hands rub circles into my soft skin, and I finally look up.
Your light brown eyes are clouded over, pupils dilated, and I see the lust in your unblinking gaze.
I can’t seem to take my eyes off your pink lips — they look so gentle in the rugged landscape of your masculine face, lost amidst the stubble you grew out to look “just a bit older.” I always liked the beard. I said it made you look tougher — more like the man I wanted you to be, the one that would sweep me off my feet.
I want to kiss you. I won’t deny it. I can’t deny it. And I want you to kiss me back. I want to be so tangled up in you that we don’t know where I start and you end.
Everything is out of focus, like someone’s clicked the blur effect on an Instagram photo. The only thing that seems real is you. You and your smile, the one that always changes my mind. You and your smirk, the one that appears when you know I want you. You and your warm embrace, the one that lingers for just a bit too long. You and your strong arms that wrap around and hold me tight.
You’re leaning in. Your lips moving closer to mine. Your breath hot on my face as your hands tangle up in my hair. You cup my face and I lean in to meet you.
I rolled over, the crumpled white sheets moving with me. I never could manage to sleep past 9:30 — the sun always woke me up, no matter how much I tried to fight it.
The space next to me was cold.