His hot breath on my neck sends chills down my spine. Quickly his hands are searching my body. Grasping for anything he can hold on to. He grabs my hips and looks in to my eyes. But instead of seeing in to his soul I see my reflection. My desire for him reflects back in the irises I know so well.
His hands are now tangled in my hair. Pulling and tugging to get me to put my lips on his neck. His skin is damp as the humidity in the room becomes suffocating. I move my lips up to his ear and I whisper the sweet words I know he longs to hear.
His lips are now on mine and my hands roam his face for the familiarity of his jawline. I can’t help but think about how many times this scene has played out exactly like this with his hands now moving lower, to a place where I crave to be touched.
I pull back and I look in to his eyes. He smiles because he knows what is coming next. “I love you,” I whisper, just loud enough so only he can hear it. He opens his mouth and he is just about to repeat my words back so I know he feels the same when I open my eyes.
I’m in my room, it’s dark and I look next to me and it is only my bed and I. I’m alone and its late. That’s when I remember. There will be no more kisses and no more staring into his eyes. Because he’s gone, and I never got a reason why.
Melissa Libbey is a recent graduate with her MA in English and Writing Studies. When she isn’t writing or reading, she can be found drinking wine while petting her dog. She has also been published on Thought Catalog, Kean Xchange and her twitter: @Miss_Libbey16