Maybe you should touch me in the way you really wanted
She stands close enough that you catch the warmth radiating off her skin, that quiet dare in her eyes pulling your hands toward her before your brain catches up.
Petite frame, but the way she holds your gaze makes the room feel smaller, the air thicker — she already knows exactly what your fingers are hesitating to do.
This is the moment she's giving you permission to stop being careful, to grip instead of graze, to finally move with intention rather than politeness.
