When your lips were on mine, all I could think was how I wanted more. More of you, more of your touch, more of your racing breath as you kissed my lips, my neck, my chest. Thinking about your touch, even hours later, sends tingles down my spine and dilates my pupils. If we weren’t interrupted I may have done something rash. Would I have regretted it? Maybe. But that wouldn’t have stopped it from feeling right at the time. It wouldn’t have stopped me from doing it again either. When you look at me with those eyes which have so much depth, I find myself being lost in them with no hope of coming out. Your smell is so intoxicating. Smelling you on my clothes sends me on a passionate journey that leaves me squirming for more of your touch, but you’re so far away. The place I now wish to return to most, is the comforting and passionate place that is your arms. When you hold me, even if the touch is innocent, my pulse races and body arches into you. Your heat makes me tremble and the good girl I once was turns into a lustful vixen. When those hot hands explore my body as your lips travel across my face, the probability of me forming coherent thoughts are so slim, the chances of me combusting spontaneously are greater. And that’s what it feels like, like my heart is about to combust from all the effort it has to make to get the blood you heat pumping through my brains so I don’t pass out from lack of oxygen as you send waves of pleasure through my body.