chapter 5

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Oh, press your body like that against me again. Press it so I can feel the curve of your breasts, so soft against my chest. Press it so I can feel the skin of your thighs against the skin of mine. I would kneel and worship at your body willingly. I've never been with a woman with a body like yours. Every curve seems sculpted by the hands of God, and to run my hands over each one resembles a blessing. Your skin is like cream, sweet and luminous, and is my favourite treat. Love me with your body, show me with its moves, and I will tell you of my affection with words lost easily from my mouth.

Sadly, writing seemed the closest I got to touching my girlfriend in ways I dreamed, imagining things I could do only months ago. All her touches I'd lost, yet could still see. Her hands were always around, taunting me, triggering my mind to remember things I wish I could just forget. She always knew what to do with her hands - run them down my back, tickle them along my chest, clasp them around my face - and I could only hope that they would touch me like that again soon.

After last nights short encounter with our lost passion, everything had gone back to normal. Only really touching while we were asleep, silent breakfast's in the kitchen, and sorrowing looks that shot at me, screaming, "Just let me go, Harry." I have thought about letting her go. Maybe she could run back to Will, and he'd be willing to take her back and create a life with her that she was fulfilled with and never lost it's passion.

I had been sitting at my desk in my den since 7am. It was a mess. Bowls and glasses scattered the room, mostly the area of my desk. I had printed-off drafts of chapters lying on top of said bowls and glasses. I give them to Lex to read. The room was dark - the thick, navy blinds were always pulled closed. I couldn't write with bright light protruding into the room. The sun would shift, and the shadows would move; plants would blow in the wind and I'd never be able to not see them shift out of the corner of my eye. I need consistency in my environment when writing, because there is never any consistency in what I write. It moves from place to place, character to character, and feeling to feeling.

It was currently 6pm, and Lex has yet to come home from work. She works her little butt off at work, and she reaps the benefits. She'd studied law at University, but when going out to get her first job, she found herself working a job she didn't really want to, utilising her linguistic skills rather than learned law knowledge. She applied for a associate position at a firm in the inner city of London, and was a kick-ass attorney. She worked her ass off. And I was proud of her - so, so proud - but I can't help but see links between her new job and our faltering relationship. Lex gets a new job, I'm ecstatic. Lex always talks about new job, I'm not as supportive and can't get myself to listen. Even though her job my have brought out my inattentiveness, I had to be inattentive to her. I made her feel unloved, and unwanted, and not listened to.

I heard the door being unlocked and I jumped from my seat. It flipped back onto the floor, but damn if I cared. I wanted to talk about what happened last night. I want to fix my ditzy actions. I jogged through the cold halls, and walked out the the kitchen to find Lex pulling out Chinese takeaway from a flimsy, white plastic bag.

Lex looks up at me. Her deep blue eyes look lost, empty. I don't see life, nor happiness or glee to see me; they don't look like they used to. Her hair's a mess, fringe flicked back and the rest up in the messiest ponytail I've ever seen. But she looks gorgeous, standing in our kitchen, in a damn gorgeous tan-coloured dress.

"Hi," she shakily says.

"Hi, Lex." She almost winces at the sound of her nickname. I can see her distaste.

I move a bit closer, testing the waters. Can I go up and kiss her, harder and with more love than I have done recently? Because that's really all I want to do. I want to run my hands down her soft dress that covers her perfect curves, and whisper against her mouth, I love you, I want this.

"You're entering deep territory, Harry," Lex whispers as I'm inches from her body.

"I've been deeper," I whisper back.

Her hand comes up to my hair, running a soft fingertip through the strands. Her heads tilted, gazing at me. There's a bit more admiration in her eyes now. Maybe this is her way of saying that I can touch her, too. With her soft touches, she encourages mine.

I bring my hands up, and run them across the smooth skin of her neck; I lace them in her hair, and move my body in closer. I want to be sensual, and I know she loves my hands in her hair, controlling the way her head moves. She comes in, pressing her lips to mine in a way that almost seems alien. Because we haven't touched like this in so long, I feel like I'm experiencing our fire, and passion for the first time. I'm ignited, and can't stop now.

I unlace my hands from her hair, and run them hastily down her curves before I reach the tops of her thick, soft thighs. I lift her, placing her on the kitchen bench, not daring to take my lips off hers. She's into this, and isn't pulling back from what we're doing, or hesitant like she has been recently. Lex really wants to be with me like this again, and to be who we were only months before.

Before I know it, Lex's dress is hoisted up to her hips, and she's pushing down the sweatpants I'm sporting. I'm moving in, and she's arching back. Her sounds are devilish. I haven't heard those moorish sounds in so long; I feel like my heart is aching each time my name leaves her lips in a breathless, wanting way. I can't get enough of this. I'm overwhelmed with the feeling of her and her little sounds that I don't need her dress to come all the way off her body. She's perfect like this.

Once we're done, Lex looks at me with her dazed l-love-you look. She always used to look like that after sex. So infatuated with me, and happy with the way we were. And now we're back, passion and lust and love all in one.

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