To press your lips to mine. Be gentle. We’ll always have time for burning passion, but not now, later. Let’s be soft, let’s be slow. Take all the time you can to feel. My hands resting on your hips, your arms around my neck, there is nothing but us. We need nothing but us, but this warmth, but this touch we share in the name of worry’s destruction. Everything else can wait.
Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be.
Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that.
Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched.
Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs.
Kiss her until she moans.
Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist.
Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen.
Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time.
Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste.
Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent.
Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.
