Anticipation

"Will you write about this?" he asked. He slipped his hand into mine and guided me down the paved road into the darkness. The heat of his skin against mine spread into me like a fever. It didn't matter that I couldn't see where we were going. It only mattered that we were going together. I was helpless to resist him. He turned to face me, waiting for the answer, but I had already forgotten the question. I was lost in those deep, black eyes, wondering, what does he see?

He smiled that cocky little smile of his. You know the way he is, so full of cool confidence. He dipped his head toward mine. Our cheeks barely brushed as he turned his lips against my face, but there were no kisses. There was only the promise of kisses yet to come.

How could I write this? What words could I conjure that would do justice to this kind of intimacy? Would I be able to tell about the fast beat of my heart, the sudden hitch in my breath, the anticipation of his touch? How would I put it together without falling apart?

No, I won't write it, I decided. I'd like to keep this one between the two of us. Some things aren't meant to be shared.