The room smelled like rain,

humid,
electric,

the kind that clings
to bare skin

and unfinished sins.

Or maybe it was your sweat,

sweet,
defiant,

daring me closer
with every breath.

And danger—

God,

you wore it
like perfume.

You looked at me
like you knew the outcome,

like you had already marked
the places

you meant to ruin

slowly,

beautifully.

I wanted to taste
the tremble in your lips,

catch the gasp
in your throat,

draw the map
of your hunger

in the dark

with my hands.

You moved
like surrender,

but your eyes—

your eyes were war.

I wanted both.

I knew every soft place
in you

was about to bruise.

And I still chose yes.

I still said more.

And you—

you let me.