I want you to message me first, inviting me over, with just enough flirtatiousness to let me know it’s more than a casual hangout session between friends.

I want you to do a double-take when I show up at your door, and then let your eyes linger on my cleavage or my legs to silently show that you’re interested.

I want you to greet me with a hug that lasts a few moments too long, a hug that lets me take in the sweet scent of your cologne and feel the hard muscles pressed up against my chest.

I want you to casually walk me inside and catch up with me, pretending that nothing is going to happen between us, even though we both know the truth.

I want you to offer me a beer and invite me into your bedroom to watch some random show on Netflix that neither of us actually gives a shit about.

I want you to make occasional comments about the show, comments that make it seem like you’re paying attention, even though we both know the only thing we can think about is how our thighs are touching.

I want you to give me a back massage or to pretend to fight me or to compare our hand sizes. Any excuse you can come up with to touch me more than you already have.

I want you to hold my hand to help me up and down the stairs when I need to use the bathroom, and keep holding my hand when we return to your bed.

I want you to spoon me as we finish up the episode and start the next one, so I can feel your dick pressed up against my ass.

I want you to turn your head to speak to me, so that our lips are only centimeters away from touching.

I want you to flick your eyes back and forth between my lips and my eyes, showing me that you’re dying to kiss me as much as I’m dying to kiss you.

But I don’t actually want you to kiss me yet. No. I want to be teased. Tortured. I want you to tempt me in any conceivable way that you can, making me wet before skin even touches skin.

But when you finally do kiss me, I only want you to give me a small taste before pulling away, acting like it was all you were willing to give.

I want you to extend the pause. To make me wonder if it’s all over or if it’s only about to begin.

Then I want you to pull me back in, peek your tongue in my mouth, pull my hair, climb on top of me, rip my shirt off, and slip your hand into my jeans. I want you to fuck me like we’re been waiting for the moment our entire lives, because we have. We’ve been waiting and we need the wait to be worth it.

We need it to last.