He rested his head against her neck and his hand rested against her chest. He pulled back the fabric of her dress and ran his fingers against her skin. His eyes were glazed with a heat that burned in his pupils like coal; her body was ambrosia he soaked in through his fingertips. She lay back and stared at the ceiling. He loved her for her body, for her sex. That's what she thought, at that moment, seeing his face. She realized then, this grappling with what it was to be in love, to have a deep love for someone, was all in vain. She took for granted that the men who she fell into relationships with were boys, not yet adults…not quite children. They fell in love with her. They lusted for her and this power her body held frightened and saddened her…she was trapped inside of a mirage.
Is this all you were thinking about while I was away?
He looked into her face and slid his palm over her breast.
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