Cracked kitchen tiles
Send chills down my back
Is this too sinful of an act?

His toned body against my own
warms my anxious bare chest
Will this prove too hard of a test?

As if they know every inch,
his fingertips began to trace my spine
But I am not his and he is not mine

My eyes meet his in the dim light
My hands decide to messy his hair
Our mouths indulge; we no longer care.