Slide my chair in front of yours, a coffee table in between. My legs stretched out gently brush the side of your pants.
I want to touch you but ours are not the only eyes in the room.
Other eyes curiously study the ink on your muscular arms and the way you move closely beside me —never touching.
Can they smell the desire over the aromatic fragrance of coffee? Mmm, yes, mocha cravings.
My eyes always find your lips, your eyes, your face. If I close my eyes, breathe in deeply and concentrate, I can conjure the taste of your tongue on mine.
Did you catch the subtle whisper of my eyes to yours —saying I want you… right here, right now?
You’ve promised to wait for me. You won’t spill one drop without me there to catch it.
A kiss. A taste. A scent.
I’ll wait for you as well. The tingles build at the edges of my aching breasts and between my thick brown thighs, but I’ll wait for you— and only you.
