I want to feel your hand slip into mine as we watch a movie on your couch. Feel the heat of your eyes on me, wonder how much longer until you’re going to kiss me. Until you’re going to reach for the hem of my skirt or the clasp of my bra.
I want to move things into the bedroom so we can cuddle with your chest pressed against my back. With your face in my hair. With your arm draped around me, cupping the curve of my waist.
I want you to kiss me on my lips, soft at first, hesitant. I want a few more of those kisses, where we’re both in our heads more than the moment, wondering what the other person is thinking and if they want more.
Then I want those light, fluttery kisses to turn into deep, passionate ones. I want the hands you’ve been keeping at your side to rest on my back, beneath my shirt. I want our legs to intertwine, our tongues to twist. I want my fingers in your hair, over your stubble, across your chest.
I want your lips to get distracted, relocate to my neck. My shoulders. My collarbone. I want you to make your way down my torso or up my thighs and then peel off my clothing slowly, like you need to breathe my image in.
But I don’t want to slip beneath your sheets. I want to lie on top of them, both of our bodies exposed in the dim light. I want you to tell me how gorgeous I am, either with your words or your eyes. I want to hear you say how you’ve been waiting so long to touch me like this.
I want your taste in my mouth, your cologne in my lungs, your love in my veins.
I want to do the dirtiest things with you. I want to hear moans meant just for me and feel my hair pulled by the same hands that have cupped my face and tickled my sides.
But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in the sweet things.
I also want morning texts. Pillow talks. Breakfasts in our underwear. Nights driving through a town we’ve lived in for years but have never really seen.
I want you to be there for me, whether I’m sexting you or texting you. I want you to want me in more ways than one.
Because, even though I want to sleep with you, even though I can’t stop thinking about you in between my legs with your lips against my skin — I want so much more than sex. I want something real with you.
I want everything with you.