Redtail Rise the right side of my neck still smells like you

Dinah does not press him. Her acknowledgement is simple, her words fall like rain.

The silence is spearing.

Nearly, he forgets what he was talking about; lost in her depths of her gaze.

He’d thought of her many times since they’d met. Boyishly, ashamedly—only the curve of her back, occasionally the shape of her smile, the blue of her eyes. But maybe, there was more than just that.

The caress of her breath is warm against his face. Her touch is ever delicate.

His whisper is a quiet rasp,

Time holds its breath.

So what’s stopping you?