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her skin felt like heaven, her hair felt like the clouds. brushed up against my fingertips was the fabric of her jacket, cold and rough and not what i wanted to feel.
shoving my hands into the forbidden space between her jacket and her body itself, i squeezed. her heartbeat was fast, a drummer in a marching band, the flap of a hummingbird's wing.
i matched up perfectly with her, the adrenaline of the moment catching up to every cell in my body. every nerve, muscle, bone. and when i could find myself sinking into her skin and resting my eyes for a while, i was bombarded with the thought, "she can always call me hers."
