I could write novels about the way your lips traced mine How your fingers tangled in my hair How we didn't stop until we were both out of breath Your hands dipped between each one of my ribs The pads of your fingers pushing bruises into my hips Hips moving seductively, slowly, yet without pause Friction craved and needed and created The boiling heat between us Making us cross lines we never knew existed But it was worth all that we risked.