A little distance would be helpful, I hoped. Let me in, and his voice spilled over my skin as if he'd covered me naked in satin and drawn it along my body. It was eating so you wouldn't die, with no meaning to it. I felt like crap, but him this close didn't bring it on.
Now, suddenly, aiming to punch a hole through someone had a whole new meaning. He was always almost close enough, but never quite where they reached, if they were reaching where they shouldn't have. Swept that sure, heavy, glide of skin and nails away from even the beginning of my pubic bone, so that he was only touching my hips, my thighs, but nothing more. It was as if the very essence of our bodies had responded to that desire.
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