An emotion of great delight de Tahereh Mafi
My hands were on his chest. They’d landed there and I’d left them there and I loved the feel of him, his heat, this racing heartbeat under my hands that proved he was real, that this moment was real. Slowly, I dragged my hands down his chest, down the hard lines of his torso. I heard his sharp intake of breath, felt a tremor move through him, through me. We both went suddenly still. I was staring at his throat, the soft line of his neck, the hint of his collarbone. I watched him swallow. His hands tightened around my waist. I looked up. He said nothing but my name before he kissed me. It was heat, a blistering sun, a pleasure so potent it felt closer to pain. |