I forgot that loving you is a bad idea for me. I forgot that when you touch me, it’s as if a fog rolls in, enshrouding us in a curtain that blocks the rest of the world from my thoughts, my memory. I forgot that when you take my hands in yours, slowly bringing them to your lips to press sweet kisses on my fingertips that all regret begins to quickly fade away. I see only you, my secret visitor, with your brown eyes dancing over me. You look at me and I know exactly what you want … because it’s the same thing I want.
There’s urgency within me that you never seem to show. I can’t wait. I want to feel you, see you, inhale your scent as I lay next to you, my head resting against your bare chest, both of us sated, the longing quenched. But you always take your time. Teasing. Torturing. The corners of your mouth turned upward. You’re in control. Making me wait. Making me crazy. How can you exhibit such restraint when I want to …
Should I tell you what I want? Shall I tell you where my thoughts have taken us since the last time we were together?
No, I can’t, because while I try to think, to tell you, you begin to move. Your hands release mine, moving up my arms in gentle, intoxicating caresses until your arms encircle me, pulling me close. Your lips, still smiling, press against mine. Your tongue darts out to taste and I can think of only one thing: how right it feels to be in your arms. It’s where I know I’m meant to be. It’s where I have to be …
Only, I forgot. As right as it feels, as right as it seems, I always forget. That place belongs to someone else, not me.
But for now, my heart beating next to yours, there’s no good or bad, right or wrong. There’s only us. For now, you’re mine and I won’t regret that I forgot.