The romantic escapades she had with him filled her mind as she woke up. His touch, his laughter, the warmth of his embrace — everything about him lingered like a melody she couldn't forget. She wanted him again, not just for the fleeting comfort, but for the way he made her feel whole, like a part of her had been missing and only he could fill it.
She rolled over in bed, her hand brushing against the pillow where his head had rested the night before. Memories of soft kisses, whispered promises, and lingering glances replayed in her mind like an endless film. Each memory pulled at her heart, tugging her closer to a longing she couldn't deny.
Her chest tightened as she remembered how he had held her in his arms, how his fingers traced the lines of her face as though committing her to memory. That simple act of closeness had left her feeling safe, loved, and yet desperate for more. More of him, more of the intimacy that only he could provide.
The sunlight streamed in through the curtains, spilling across the room and catching in the strands of her hair. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, imagining him there again, his body close to hers, his lips brushing against her skin. Even now, hours after he had left, the thought made her pulse quicken.
She had tried to distract herself with small chores — folding clothes, arranging her desk, scrolling through her phone — but every attempt failed. Every corner of her mind was taken up with him. Her body remembered in ways her mind could hardly articulate. A shiver ran through her as she remembered the quiet moments, the stolen laughter, the way he had whispered her name in the dark.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking the spell of her memories. The sound was almost intrusive, yet the sight of his name flashing across the screen made her heart skip. For a moment, she just stared, hesitant to answer, torn between excitement and a sudden nervousness she didn't fully understand.
Finally, with a shaky breath, she swiped to answer.
"Hello?" she murmured, her voice softer than she intended.
"Morning, love," he said, and even through the phone, his voice had that same magnetic effect. It wrapped around her chest, pulling her in, warm and comforting and maddening all at once.
She closed her eyes, letting herself remember how he had held her last night, how close they had been, how safe yet electrifying it had felt. "Did you sleep well?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to sound casual.
There was a pause, and she felt it in her bones — the kind of pause that spoke volumes. Then, finally, he replied, his tone low and tender, "I've been thinking about you all morning."
Her breath caught, and she clutched the sheets beneath her hands. Thinking about her? About her, specifically? The memory of his body close to hers, the softness of his lips, and the sound of his heartbeat pressed itself against her mind.
"I… I've been thinking about you too," she admitted softly. "More than I probably should."
Another pause, but this time it was different — lighter, teasing almost. "You shouldn't. You're mine, in every way that counts."
Her heart raced, a mixture of embarrassment and desire making her cheeks flush. Even though she knew the statement wasn't possessive in a cruel sense, there was a hunger behind it, a promise of something unspoken, something inevitable. She swallowed hard and let herself breathe in his words, letting the sound settle in her chest like a steady flame.
"I…" she started, then stopped herself. Words felt useless, inadequate to express what she truly felt. Every heartbeat, every shiver, every stolen memory of him screamed louder than any sentence ever could.
"Come see me," he said suddenly, breaking the tension, but not completely. His words were casual, yet deliberate, and they made her stomach twist with anticipation.
Her hand hovered over the phone, frozen for just a moment. Should she? Could she? Her mind was a whirlwind of desire, hesitation, and curiosity. Every instinct in her screamed to obey, to throw caution to the wind, but another voice whispered of patience, of restraint.
The truth was, she couldn't wait. Not anymore. Every fiber of her being craved the closeness, the warmth, the feeling of being wanted so completely by someone she loved so deeply.
She looked around the room, as if searching for a sign, an excuse, a reason to stay still. The sunlight seemed cruel in its brightness, a reminder that the world was moving on while she was suspended in this fragile moment of longing.
Memories of him pressed in from every direction — his laughter in the quiet of the night, the way he had brushed her hair from her face, the way his hands had lingered on her waist as if he feared letting go. Even the simple sound of his breathing had left an imprint on her soul.
Her fingers wrapped around the pillow as though it could stand in for him, and for a brief second, she let herself believe it could. The thought was both comforting and heartbreaking. She wanted him, needed him, yet she also feared the intensity of what would happen when he arrived.
A small, nervous laugh escaped her lips as she thought of how fragile this moment was. One step, one choice, and everything could change. Every moment of hesitation made the anticipation sharper, more vivid. She could almost feel the electricity in the air, the tension that would fill the room when they were finally together again.
The phone buzzed again, and she nearly dropped it. His name on the screen made her pulse accelerate. She answered without thinking, letting the connection bridge the distance.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he said, and his voice was a whisper, intimate, impossible to ignore.
She bit her lip, trying to steady herself. "I know. I feel the same."
There was a long pause, and she realized with a start that silence had become a language of its own. Between them, it was unspoken yet understood. Every heartbeat, every breath, every tremble in her voice conveyed more than words ever could.
"I'm coming over," he said finally, and though his tone was casual, it carried weight. It carried promise.
Her stomach twisted in anticipation, a mix of nervousness and excitement. She wanted to run to him, to throw herself into his arms, yet part of her lingered in the quiet tension, savoring every second before the inevitable reunion.
She rose from the bed, pacing the room as her mind swirled with memories and fantasies. Every step felt like a countdown, every second a drumbeat heralding what was to come. She could almost hear the creak of the floorboards as he entered, the soft click of the door, the warmth that would immediately fill the space between them.
Her heart pounded louder with every imagined sound, every potential glance. She thought about what she would say, what she would do, how she would react when the moment finally arrived. The anticipation was unbearable, yet intoxicating.
She paused by the window, looking out at the quiet morning. The city seemed to hold its breath, waiting for what was about to happen. The air felt charged, like the world itself sensed the collision of emotions that was imminent.
She closed her eyes, letting herself feel the longing fully. The thought of him, the memory of their closeness, the ache of waiting — it all blended into one overwhelming sensation. She was on the edge, suspended between desire and patience, knowing that in a matter of moments, everything could change.
Her phone buzzed again — a simple reminder, but it might as well have been a signal. She knew the sound would come, and yet it startled her every time. She clutched it tightly, feeling the vibration through her fingers, imagining it as the prelude to his arrival.
Every sense was heightened — the scent of her room, the warmth of the sunlight, the sound of the distant city — all seemed magnified as if the universe itself was preparing her for the collision of hearts that was about to happen.
And just like that, she froze, listening, waiting, holding her breath. She knew the next moment could be the one she had imagined a thousand times, the one that would blur the line between longing and fulfillment.
Her heart raced. Every nerve in her body ached with anticipation. She was ready. And yet, the waiting made it all the more thrilling, all the more impossible to endure.
She smiled faintly, a mixture of nerves and excitement, and whispered to herself, "Soon."