His Story (Part 2)

With your hand resting in mine, I am almost satisfied until I notice your mouth again, so tempting, so full of promise.

I want to speak, to make a joke that might ease the tension building in me, but my lips are waiting to taste yours and refuse to be distracted.

I bite my lip and swallow, and the spell is broken, your hand is gone, but the absence of your touch is more than I can bear.

I slide even closer, feeling your warmth as our legs touch, and I lift your hand from your glass.

Companion Pieces:

Seeing You Seeing Me