The curve of her shoulder

The arc of the back of her neck, the little hollow just beneath the line of her jaw...

Her hair pulled loosely into a chignon, she leaned forward on the bed. I stood in the doorway behind her, watching the way the light fell on her shoulder, noticing how her velvet skin stood  against the texture of the lace chemise she was wearing.  Despite the mirror across from her, she did not yet know I was there, swimming in the depths of a reverie of her own.  I tiptoed across the parquet and breathed into her ear, "I want to kiss you as softly as this light falling on your skin. May I?"  

"You can try," she replied, "but I'm not confident you'll succeed.  The late afternoon light is so faint, I can barely feel it."

I leaned in even closer, exhaling slowly as my lips approached her neck, she shivered.  I lingered there, grazing her skin with my lips, losing myself in her scent and the heat that was radiating from her body.  Not wanting to break the spell, neither of us spoke, neither of us moved....

Until next time...

Anne