She didn’t want to know his name.
It was important that I did, but anything more than that would move it from one thing to another. It was a ledge she wanted to sit on, and if there were too many things to hold onto, the excitement would vanish with the fear.
He was waiting in the room when…
She climbed onto my lap as he watched us, a smile on his face that I had seen a million times before.
“I can’t believe I’ve never kissed you,” she whispered, her lips just brushing my own.
“Is that what you want?” I asked. “Just a kiss?”
“I want more than a kiss,” she said…
“It’s okay if you lie about me,” I whispered. “In fact, I like it.”
“You like it?”
I pulled her closer and kissed her hair once more, still marveling at the fact that she was in bed next to me at all. We had moved from exaltation to exhaustion more times than I could count and our bodies were…
When I think about the night we spent together it all piles up in my head, and it’s nearly impossible for me to pull any single detail from the whole. If I could write about sex with her it would be one word, the letters of a thousand others bunched up on top, sitting in one place, ready to…
|—||A.S.A. Harrison, The Silent Wife (via quoted-books)|
|—||Ian Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via blackbruise)|
|—||Joe Meno (via blackbootsandanklesocks)|