his fault

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i blamed him entirely.

it was meant to be just a glass of wine. a good story. and  goodnight.

when we met we kissed cheeks once in greeting and i pulled away to sit down, but he pulled me back. kissed the other side, said that's how it was done where he came from.

and i was charmed by this.

we sat on opposite ends of a very large booth.

and i can remember almost nothing we spoke of. only that he moved closer, pulled me towards him.

how his knee touched my knee. and how i was surprised by this. surprised by my own delight.

how his hand reached for my hand. and it was...delicious.

and when our mouths finally met, it was one silent of course after another.

how our first night together he turned to me, still half-alseep and asked if i wanted to hug, the sounds of those words all sloshy in his mouth.

and i nodded, let him pull me close, knowing that hug was entirely the wrong word.

but i was nuts about him for that word alone. because i knew what he meant and i liked what he meant and hell, if he wasn't a man who made every bit of my body go soft with wanting.

and i blamed him entirely.


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