SWINDON, MARCH 15th, 1872
He stares at me, eyes wide and lips parted, letting a long breath escape him. His dark eyes are boring into mine, making me feel like they are searching every last bit of my soul. I know that I confounded him with my proximity. Perhaps this is the push he needed to give in to me.
My chest flutters as he raises his hands, placing them on my wrists. The heat of his hands is burning through the sleeves of my dress, making it difficult to breathe as he slides down my arms slowly, but sensually. It makes me want to kiss him. Right here, right now. I don’t know why he is waiting this long. I made the first move, now it was his turn to continue playing.
Just as I already think I have melted him, he suddenly pulls his hands back up to my wrists in one quick
