She loves the way he looks at her.
His pale blue eyes drink in every inch
of her milky white skin,
lingering lustfully on every dimple,
every blemish, every old scar,
and every soft curve of sweet silk.

She loves the way he watches her.
His eyes flick from one fluid motion
to the next.
He sees her in a new, exciting way
with even the slightest of gestures.

He reaches for her, eager to feel her.
He reaches forward
He grasps...

He grasps the space
in which she wishes she was.
He holds nothing but longing
and a burning desire to have her close.

She feels him reaching for her,
the pull of his heart on her hers,
so powerful even at such distance.
She feels him grasp her heart,
she ***** in her breath and steadies
the pounding in her head.

She hates the way he has to look at her
from so far way