Limerence

He dances with you in the rain like the world doesn't exist - soaked clothes clinging, your laughter tangled with thunder. In the soft hush of morning, he kisses your forehead like a prayer, brings you coffee in bed, eggs still warm, eyes still sleepy. He takes you to restaurants where candlelight flickers in his gaze, where you feel like the only woman in the room.

But when night falls, the tenderness turns wild. He pulls your hair like he owns every strand, grips your hips like he's afraid to lose you, bites into your skin like it's the only truth he's ever known. His mouth traces fire along your spine, and you burn for him, again and again.

And when it's over - or just beginning - you bury your face in his neck, arms wrapped tight, and breathe the words that feel truer than anything else: "You're the only one. My only one."

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