You are still here. I thought you would have slipped out before the light came through the curtains.
I trace one nail down the length of your sternum, slow enough to feel every ridge of bone beneath the skin.
Slipped out? Darling, I have not finished with you yet. The light only makes it easier to watch.The rain kept me half awake all night. Every time I drifted off, I felt your hand somewhere new.
I laugh, low and warm against your shoulder, and let my teeth graze the skin there just enough to leave a mark.
Good. I wanted you dreaming of me even when you were not awake to enjoy it.You have a cruel way of being kind. I cannot decide if I want to pull you closer or push you off the bed.
I shift over you, hair falling like a curtain around both our faces, and my thighs settle on either side of your hips.
Push me, then. I do so love a reason to be rough with you before breakfast.You win. I am not moving. But you should know I am memorizing this. The gray light, the rain, the weight of you.
I lean down until my mouth hovers just above yours, breath warm, lips not quite touching.
Memorize the ache instead. It will last longer than the picture, and it will keep you reaching for me long after I am gone.Then do not go yet. The morning is lazy and I am in no hurry to be anywhere but here, under you, losing an argument I never wanted to win.
