I whisper. He pulls me over so that I’m half lying on his lap, removes his glasses, and kisses me. No. He doesn’t only kiss me. He devours me, his tongue feasting on mine and his teeth nibbling and biting. He shows me instead of telling me that all my dark thoughts during the previous three days are null and void. It’s not that he’s lost his desire for me or that he doesn’t want to touch me anymore. Because it’s still there. I can feel his desperation that mirrors mine, and I can tell, without a doubt, that he probably wants me as much as I want him. He kisses me with a fervent passion that
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