"do you still love me?""Do you still love me?" he asks.
Sitting to his left, hip to hip, the length of her thigh barely touching his, she touches his hand. A soft gentle touch. Skin meeting but not manipulated by pressure. Her fingers trace a path before making their final move to his down turned palm. Here they use a gentle caress to lift his willing hand. She guides it slowly toward her cheek. Her eyes are half closed. From under her eyelids she stares off at something that doesn't exist.
Finally his palm is on her cheek. She closes her eyes as she turns her face to his palm. He can feel her breath, slow, heavy, uncertain. Her hand leaves the back of his to lightly touch his forearm, his bicep, his shoulder. Again her face turns, his hand is on her cheek again, gentle, his touch, on her soft yielding skin.
He moves now. His palm strok