“What do you want?” I ask him as he runs his fingers over me, his index finger pausing as it circles the mole about an inch above my belly button, “what do you mean” he asks, “what do you want from me?”, I repeat almost whispering.
His finger resumes it’s wondering snaking journey to the scar on my hip, “I don’t want you only for sex” he says “if that’s what you’re implying” he continues unsure. He frowns slightly waiting for a response and then a moment later he says “I don’t want anything from you that you wouldn’t want but I think I know what you want and I’m not able to give you everything”. Then he says, “what do you want? I say hesitantly, “from you? I don’t know, I don’t know what I want.” He looks at me his fingers now on my right breast slowly circling my nipple, “we crossed the line somehow” I say more to myself than him, he says “it feels so natural, so right”.
“Right now I only know I want to kiss you” he says, our lips brush slightly as he kisses me gently with his eyes closed