The Most Natural Thing

It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to me.

To lean in, slide my hand around her waist, and pull her towards me.

To lower my head, and let it fall along her cheek and neck.

To breathe in her perfume, her own unique scent, feel the warmth and softness of her exposed skin, and drop feather-light kisses there.

To feel her breathe in and hear the quietest of moans escape her lips, and have her body shudder against mine.

To pull her closer still, our bodies meshing and begin to move together.

To lean my forehead against hers, have my lips hover over hers, and feel her ragged breath mix with mine.

To lift my eyes and have her gaze meet mine – brown meeting green – and notice her eyes drop to my lips.

To wait just a little more, and anticipate what she will taste like, how soft and full her lips feel, how wonderful her tongue will feel exploring my lips, my mouth, and the rest of me.

To finally cover her lips with my own, and tease, and lick, and slide my tongue along that beautiful, faint scar that has been taunting me for so many years.

To come up for air, only to have her lips crash into mine, and have her tongue drag slowly across my bottom lip, asking me to open up to her, which I readily do.

To slide my hands up and down her body, tugging at her clothing, searching for the softness and heat of her skin.

To softly whisper her name, not like I've done before, alone and in my dreams, but this time to her, and watch her beautiful brown eyes go impossibly dark.

"Regina."

Yes, Regina feels like the most natural thing in the world to me.