you look like you need a forehead kiss

You spot the redhead in the frame and feel something slow down inside you — not lust at first, but something closer to ache.

You notice the way the light catches the copper strands falling across a bare shoulder, the soft curve of a neck tilted just slightly, as if offering itself to your mouth.

You want to press your lips to that forehead, yes, but your eyes keep dropping lower — to the collarbone, the chest rising with a slow breath, the warmth radiating off skin that looks impossibly soft against your fingertips.