The air is still.
My skin is scared.
Even my thoughts are whispering.
6 seconds I forget to breathe.
Then I feel his lips against my shoulder, soft and scorching and tender, so gentle I could almost believe it’s the kiss of a breeze and not a boy.
This time on my collarbone and it’s like I’m dreaming, reliving the caress of a forgotten memory and it’s like an ache looking to be soothed, it’s a steaming pan thrown in ice water, it’s a flushed cheek pressed to a cool pillow on a hot hot hot night and I’m thinking yes, I’m thinking this, I’m thinking thank you thank you thank you
before I remember his mouth is on my body and I’m doing nothing to stop him.
He pulls back.
My eyes refuse to open.
His finger t-touches my bottom lip.
He traces the shape of my mouth, the curves the seam the dip and my lips part even though I asked them not to and he steps closer. I feel him so much closer, filling the air around me until there’s nothing but him and his body heat, the smell of fresh soap and something unidentifiable, something sweet but not, something real and hot, something that smells like him, like it belongs to him, like he was poured into the bottle I’m drowning in and I don’t even realize I’m leaning into him, inhaling the scent of his neck until I find his fingers are no longer on my lips because his hands are around my waist and he says
“You,” and he whispers it, letter by letter he presses the word into my skin before he hesitates.
His chest, heaving harder this time. His words, almost gasping this time. “You destroy me.”
I am falling to pieces in his arms.