🅔🅐🅡🅣🅗 🅞🅝🅔 // 💫

𝐻𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠

His fingers.

They twirl the flower.

Around and around...

Almost mesmerising as I lean in slowly, handing him his filled wine glass.

We sit together. Side by side, the fireplace roaring and crackling with hot embers flicking and flying about within.

He's beautiful against the darkness, the light dancing across his handsome features.

"Tuberose. From your garden... Read somewhere it's an awfully dirty plant Micheal... Why plant it?"

He teases me, gently bopping the top of my nose with the beautiful petals...

He truly knows how to make me blush.

"I wasn't thinking si-"

"Jack."

"Huh?"

"Call me Jack, Micheal... We're not working, now are we? Hm?"

"No, I suppose no—"

"Micheal?"

"Yessi— Yes Jackson?"

"..." His hand reaches up to bring me in closer, caressing my cheek so tenderly...
"You're beautiful."

I can't help it... This is the fourth time he's told me that tonight, and yet every time I still feel as if he means it...

"Thank you Jackson... You're awfully attractive yourself..."
My hand reaches up to meet his, holding it against my cheek as I close my eyes and lean into it...

The type of touch I had dreamt about for so long...
Now here it finally is.

And it is everything I had hoped it would be.

His hands are so soft, and smooth and warm...

They fit my cheek perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.

His thumb brushes lightly close to my eyes, making me feel...

Perfect.

Soon his lips are on mine, his other hand on my thigh.
We kiss slowly...

Eyes closed, his hand holding my face close to his.

I...

God I love this man...

I love him.

More than anything and I think...?
I think he knows that now.