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This close, I can see the delicate lines of her lashes outlined in a shadow under her eyes, how they frame them, and how the bright light from outside catches the blueness of her irises.
The pout of her mouth is full and begging to be kissed, and lower, I can’t help but admire the swell of her cleavage across the top of the dress she is wearing.
I can’t help but want to explore with my hands what my eyes can see.
I wait until she stops pretending she doesn’t know I’m watching her and looks back at me, her cheeks dusted pink at the attention.
She has an endearing shyness about her, but it won’t be that way forever.
First, I will show her how to be confident in herself. Teach her how beautiful she is. How every man she walks past ought to worship the ground she walks on.
She bites her lip as she looks up at me, her eyes wide and uncertain, asking a question that I’m sure she doesn’t have the confidence to voice properly unless I prompt her.
There is no need for words though.
I can feel the heat of her body, how she sways slightly closer to me rather than away now that we find ourselves touching, and how her eyes flicker down to my lips as if she can’t resist the sight.
I don’t need her to.
I lean down, closing the very small distance between us until all that remains is a hair's breadth of space between our lips, so close that an accidental flinch could make us touch.
I stop, my eyes meeting hers, daring her to take what she wants.
I need her to know that she can have it and to see that she wants to be claimed as much as I want to claim her.
She moves, just a tiny fraction of an inch, her eyes sliding shut, and then our lips collide.
The feel of her warm mouth against mine, soft and pliable, is too much.
I intended to be cautious, to go slow, but I throw all caution to the wind.
My hand slides along the side of her jaw and I draw her closer to me. I press my lips against hers in a long kiss.
When she gives another little gasp of breath, I flick my tongue over the seam of her lips, feeling them part to allow me in, exploring her mouth as soon as it opens to me.
The light moan, heady and breathy she lets out only makes me grip her tighter, my free hand going down to circle her hips and pull her closer to me.
Our bodies press together, hips against hips, beautifully aligned, her breasts pushing against my chest, surging my desire even further. Our arms encircle one another, hers coming up hesitantly around my back as if she wants to pull me closer but doesn’t know if she’s allowed.
She can do anything she wants with me.
I draw her in closer, rewarding her efforts by deepening the kiss.
I feel like a man who had no idea just how hungry he was until a single morsel of food showed me how starved I really am, and now I can’t get enough.
I want to drink her in, drown in her, and lose myself in touch alone. Bury myself in her until we are no longer separate, but instead, two halves of the same whole claimed and joined together for eternity.
It’s one hell of a kiss.
I break away from her only for a moment. Looking into her eyes, I push her cardigan off her shoulder and touch the strap of her dress and watch her reaction.
When she only surges forward as if to push herself into my hand, her mouth opens for more, her lips red and swollen from our passion, I know the heat I feel between us is not only one-sided.
I push the strap down and over her shoulder, then the other side, smoothing my hands over her skin, caressing her. The front of the dress falls with the motion, revealing her bra – a lacy number I’m sure she must have chosen with some intention of this happening.
“Alana,” I rasp, she moans in response at the mere sound of her name on my lips, and I know I’m not the only one who is lost.
She is mine, and all I have to do is claim her.
