“I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, mouth close enough to almost kiss. You lean back in bed and I fall forward.

Baby, I’m always falling for you.

There’s something new here that, sometimes, feels scary to put into words. You ask me what I want and I don’t know if it’s appropriate to throw my hands in the air and shout, “YOU, YOU, YOU!”

Would you run? Would you flee?

Is it grossly predictable to admit I’m turned on by the mere thought of you?

You lightly bite my neck and I’m ready to explode.

You. You. You. It’s you. I’m turned on because it’s you.

It’s in the smallest things you do. The way you say my name, slowly. The way you draw out each syllable. The way you use my full name, something I haven’t been called in years. I listen as each letter sits on your tongue and I imagine how they must feel in your mouth.

It’s the way you sigh at the end of a long day. When you are tired and complaining about your boss, and all I want is to take the stress away. The magic in your eyes never dulls, even when you’re exhausted. It keeps shining.

Honestly, do you even know how attractive you are?

It’s the way you smell when you hold me close. It’s your overwhelming kindness to me, to your family, to strangers in the grocery store.

You turn me on when you aren’t even intending to.

Whenever you look at me, I can feel it. It’s your smile when you know I’m about to kiss you. It’s your laugh when I say something absurdly stupid. It’s your arms wrapping around my waist when I wake from a nightmare and, suddenly, I feel safe again.

Every little thing you do turns me on.

My love, you’re the sexiest and you don’t even see it. I want you as soon as I see you. I want you because you’re you.

I’ll always want you because you’re you.