The Salt of Your Skin

The sun is a heavy weight against my shoulders, but it's nothing compared to the way your eyes trace the shoreline of my skin. I can feel you watching me from just a few feet away—not looking at the waves, but dissecting every breath I take.
I let a stray strand of hair fall across my face, a deliberate move or perhaps just fate, and watch as your pulse quickens in that tiny hollow at your neck. The air between us is thick with salt and unspoken invitations. You haven't touched me yet, but the electricity is already humming under my skin, making every nerve ending ache for the first spark.
I take a slow sip of water, my lips lingering on the rim just long enough to see your gaze drop. It’s a game we’re both playing—a silent negotiation of boundaries and desires. You want to know what I’m thinking; I want you to find out without me ever having to say a word. The ocean is roaring behind us, but in this moment, the only sound that matters is the heavy silence of two hearts trying to beat as one before the first move is even made.

Editor: Danger Zone