I didn’t want him to love me tenderly. I wanted him to bury his hands in my hair and get lost in me. I wanted him to bruise my lips and stain my skin with his need. I wanted him to dig his fingers into my soul and make love to the storm inside me. I wanted him to remind me how to breathe by taking my breath away, to love me recklessly. I didn’t need his hesitant touch or guarded desire. What I needed was to feel his fire and know that I wasn’t burning alone.
