She watched the movements, her insides flipping and flopping. The slight struggle as his thin fingers wrap around his legs hoisting them one at a time, freeing them from the confines of his chair. The same fingers that got her attention as he sat behind that piano, expertly playing that night with his friend’s band three months before. Her breath hitches for just a moment as he remains suspended between the bed and the chair. His eyes shoot up to hers, guarded like a fortress at the noise. Resuming normal breathing patterns she waits for him to situate himself before making a move, the familiar tingle ever present. His questioning look is what strikes her the most, not too mention the way he fails to meet her eyes now. This isn’t the first time they’ve gotten this far, but it is the first time they planned it. Crawling over him to rest along his body she has to force herself to stay in control because if it were her choice she would have…nevermind.
“It shouldn’t take too long now, babe…” he says flatly.
She doesn’t respond, instead, she scoots herself up and lets her lips take residence on his. Her hand snakes its way under his t-shirt to make little circles there on his chest. As her hand creeps lower and lower she waits for the moment she crosses the line between, and sure enough the sigh he lets out nearly breaks her resolve. She breaks the kiss, looking up to find his eyes closed and an almost pained look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“It’s just, I can’t, you know…” he mumbles.
“I know, I thought…” she says trailing off to a whisper.
“Yeah, it’s more for you… that part,” he manages to choke out.
“I told you it didn’t matter…” she says, bringing her hand up to his face.
“But it does…” he says finally opening his eyes.
Slowly he takes her hand from his face and leads the way. Little did he know that everything he was dreading, afraid of or nervous about was exactly what made her tick.