What if We Drown
Running a cloth underwater, Derek began to wipe the sauce away from her forehead, her cheeks, her throat. He worked his fingers through her curls, pulling out pieces of tomato and onion, his fingers massaging her scalp as they worked.
Everywhere that he touched burned, his touch igniting the desires she'd tried to suppress. Her breath was shallow as she watched him work, his eyes following the cloth.
His knuckles grazed along her jawline as he cleaned the side of her face, his fingertips brushing the corner of her mouth as he wiped the bridge of her nose. They lingered on her mouth for a moment longer, the pad of his thumb brushing her bottom lip.
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