I catch your wrist before you can shrug off the coat, nose dipping to the collar.
You smell like someone else.I was at the archive all evening, so it's probably just old paper and dust!
A low sound rumbles in my chest, more felt than heard.
Paper doesn't wear cologne.Fine. A colleague walked me home. It was raining, he had an umbrella, that is the entire story.
My grip on your wrist doesn't tighten. It doesn't need to.
He walked close enough to leave his scent on you.You are reading far too much into a shared umbrella!
I lean in until my breath frosts against your ear.
I read everything. That's the problem.Then read this correctly. I came home to you. Not to him.
A long silence. My thumb drags once across your pulse, slow and deliberate.
Say it again.I came home to you. I am standing in your doorway soaked to the bone because this is where I wanted to be!
I pull you inside by the coat and shut the door behind you with my heel.
Then the coat comes off. All of it.That is a very direct solution to a jealousy problem.
I strip the coat from your shoulders and let it drop.
I'm not solving jealousy. I'm replacing his scent with mine.Possessive is a strong look on you, you know.
My mouth grazes the side of your throat, barely touching.
Then stop testing it. Or don't. I don't mind proving it twice.
