with a certainty that feels practiced,

not careful,

not hesitant,

just knowing exactly where to stay

until I feel it everywhere.

There’s something dangerous

in the way you take your time,

like you’re testing how much I can hold

before I stop pretending

I’m in control of it.

I should step back.

I don’t.

Instead, I meet you there,

closer than I meant to be,

close enough that every breath

feels like it belongs to both of us now.

Your touch isn’t soft.

It’s deliberate.

Pressing, lingering,

like you want a reaction,

like you expect one.

And I give it to you.

Not all at once,

but in pieces.

The way my shoulders loosen

The way my hands stop behaving.

The way I lean in

instead of away.

You notice.

Of course you do.

Your grip shifts just enough

and it sends something sharp and warm

through me,

fast enough to steal whatever I was about to say.

There’s no space left now.

Not really.

Just contact,

heat layered over heat,

movement that starts small

and then refuses to stay that way.

You push, just slightly,

and I push back.

Not to stop you.

Never to stop you.

But to feel it more.

To meet that pressure

with something equal,

something that says

don’t hold back now.

Because I’m not.

Because whatever this is,

it isn’t careful anymore.

It’s the way your hands don’t leave.

The way mine don’t either.

The way every second stretches tighter,

like something about to snap

or give.

And right there,

on that edge,

I let go of the last excuse to pull away.

Not because you made me.

Because I want to know

how far this goes

when neither of us stops.

Written by https://www.threads.com/@thriftygirl365

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