and his tongue slides in,
dragging heat across mine.
And we both lean in, melt,
breathe out together,
the kiss knocking the fight out of us.
Every part of me dissolves into him?—
lips, hips, chest, pulse, breath?—
and the kiss doesn’t stop.
It deepens,
holds,
pulls.
Spills into all of me like a slow exhale.
Like opening the front door
to the house I made up in my head.
Like taking off my shoes.
Like laying back in the bed.
His mouth breaks an inch,
breath ragged, lips grazing.
“Fuck—I missed your mouth like a damn fool.” Forehead to mine, he’s panting across my lips—“Almost three weeks. I’m not doin’ that again. I’ll lose my fuckin’ mind.” He drags his lips down mine, groaning against them—“Every day, Sonny. I need this—you—every day.”
His eyes flick up to mine,
back to my mouth.
“Say okay,” he whispers.
I whisper it back?—
“Okay.”
Then the kiss breaks opens,
lips parting wider, wetter,
desperation fast, but slow to make it last,
groans muffling between us.
When we break to breathe,
a damp trail is left behind, my bottom lip slick.
