Sometimes it begins like this.
He sits beside me, placing his wine glass on the table. Then he turns to face me. Even in the dim light I can see his blue eyes darken, and narrow. This time, when he speaks, his voice drops, becomes low and like a shadow – dark, earthbound. I swallow and wonder if he can hear it. My heart feels big in my chest, and beats faster, even though he hasn’t come close yet. He smiles.
“I think this could work,” he says, and I feel myself blush, feel the heat in my face.
His eyes move down my body. I feel him look me over, noting the shape of my shoulder, my exposed neck, the curve of my chest. I see him look at my mouth and I feel my mouth watering. I swallow again, and I smile, but it feels brittle and doesn’t reach my eyes, which feel open and serious.
He leans forward. I can smell him. He smells good, like clean soap and sweat, as if he showered and then ran all the way here to meet me.
He looks again to my eyes, then down to my mouth. My eyes close and there is a moment to breathe before I feel his mouth against mine, very soft, very curious. Something inside me is coming undone and reaching for him. My hand moves to his knee – it’s a strong, solid leg, and I feel small as his arm slips around me, pulling me closer, and then the heat of his body and the pressure of his hand as it moves up. Even through my shirt I can feel it. It feels like fire, the best kind of heat.
His hand at the back of my head, his kiss is stronger now, his tongue just reaching.
And then he pulls away.
He holds me there, fingers tightly wound up in my hair. I can hardly breathe.
“You’re flushed,” he says in a low voice. I wonder if anyone else has seen us, can see this.
I wonder if I’m shaking, or if it only feels that way.
—
A delicious beginning can make all that comes after worthwhile.
