She sits there, quietly watching television, completely oblivious to my wandering eyes from across the living room. They've secretly seen all of her places that make me weak at the knees; bare shoulders, slender neck, collarbones, that little bit of smooth skin just behind the lobe of her ear. All places I long to be close to; all places I would love to touch.
I'm trying not to stare at her, pulling my cup of tea close to my lips and hovering there. The steam rising in front of my face as I blow gently on the rim; hot and moist. I want her. If she just looked at me she'd know it.
I glance back at the television and try to ignore it. Out of the corner of my eye, she has turned slightly. I can feel her eyes on me like a long, warm breath. If I close my eyes I can feel her lips on my neck. Her eyes are longing.
When I ask her if she's ok she turns back to the television. She nods with an almost whispered 'mhmm' and tenderly runs her tongue through her lips. I draw my teeth across my bottom lip and close my eyes. Sipping my tea, I wish that the heat I can feel around my mouth was hers. My whole body could cry for her.
She gets up and asks me if I'd like more tea. I say yes.
I try to stay calm; click, the kettle's on. I don't even want more tea. I haven't finished the cup I have in my hands. She's standing in front of the kettle with her palms hard on the work surface when suddenly there are hands on her hips. There is a body of warmth pressing itself tentatively against her back. I close my eyes and breathe, taking in her aroma. She hadn't heard me come in.