His lips were soft and sweet.
To be honest, I didn’t have to kiss him. He didn’t even initiate it!
When we met, we talked. I tried to convince him, and myself, that this was a horrible idea. That I was more than physically attracted to him. I was certain I had sound reasoning.
But he didn’t care.
He said he felt more than physical attraction towards me as well.
Curses! Why did I have to fit so well with a man that wasn’t even my husband? And why was he also held to the whims of his not so fleeting emotions?
Yeah, I said curses.
Nothing good could come out of our selfish desire to be together. Maybe really passionate sex, but nothing else!
I explained that his very presence felt like home to me. Safe. I felt safe and vulnerable. When he’s near me I blush. I freaking blush! These bronze hues of my flesh turn red! It’s hard for me to put a sensible, coherent thought together.
And all I wanted to do was touch his lips with my own.
He didn’t ask for a kiss.
I just couldn’t leave his space one more time without caressing his lips with mine.
So I told him, “Com’ere”, leaned forward and kissed him. And it was sweet. And it was soft. And it wasn’t nearly enough.
Cupping his face, I closed my eyes and thought about how far I was willing to take this. Emotions were over-riding every logical thought I had. The only thing I wanted was to feel connected to him. To fall into him and let him catch me.
He said he would catch me.
Did he mean that? What would that mean for us? How long could this thing we had going last? We couldn’t have happily ever after. We were both unhappily married.
There was no future.
Only this moment that surely wouldn’t last long.
Maybe if I had one night with him. One moment of surrender. Maybe that would quell the desire and longing in both of us.
Or maybe it would be a beautiful mess worth making…