But I don't.
I lie perfectly still, a predator pretending to be tame, and I wait.
This is her decision to make.
This is her submission to give.
And regardless of all of that, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't push her tonight unless she was ready for it. She's had an emotionally taxing day, week, and pushing her in any way could be too much for her.
Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, and I see her take a deep breath, a silent battle playing out across her features.
When she opens them again, something has shifted.
The fear is still there, but it’s softer now, edged with a new kind of resolve.
She lets go of the duvet with one hand.
Slowly, tentatively, she reaches out.
Her fingers, trembling slightly, brush against my chest.
The touch is electric, a jolt of want that shoots through me, straight to my groin.
I don't move.
I barely breathe.
I let her touch me.
I let her explore.
Her fingers trace the line of my collarbone, then dip lower, following the path of a single scar that cuts across my chest.
She leans in a little more, her fingers still exploring, her gaze fixed on mine.
I can see the questions in her eyes, the curiosity, the need to understand.
And I can see the desire, burning brighter now, a desperate, hungry flame.
She’s not running anymore.
She’s coming closer.
She leans in farther, and I know what she’s going to do a split second before she does it.
My entire body goes taut, a coil of anticipation so tight it’s almost painful.
And then her lips are on mine.
The kiss is hesitant at first, a soft, questioning brush of her lips against mine.
It’s everything and nothing like I remember.
Softer.
Gentler.
More tentative.
