by: Minna Von Walden
Sitting by the window she watched steam rise from his cup. His morning coffee still hot from the brew. Tracing her fingers over her own cup, She watched. Mesmerized by everything that makes him the man he is. His fingers on the glass, his hand relaxing on the side as he sits it on the table. Fingers ready to hold tight at any moment, but only lightly touching as they often touch her, softly and gently. The hands of a man that hold so much mystery. Strong and demanding to the world, but gentle and kind each time they have found her skin beneath them. Many people may fear those hands, but all she could ever do, would be to love them.