The power of her

by Caz

Disclaimer in force.

'Just when I think I'm over her, she does it again. She does it again and it all starts anew.

All it takes for that damn woman to get me started again is to look and tell me with her eyes that she wants me.

And, God, how I want her and I struggle to fight of the overwhelming need to tell her. touch her. I know she feels the same as it always manages to surface at an inopportune moment, or when something has been said that somehow conjures up an image in her mind that brings on, 'that look'. I know it because she sees that same look in my eyes.

I try not to dwell on it too much when it happens. I can't really do much because it does something to me that has me usually running for cover just so that I can compose and rearrange myself. Such is the power of her.

And that's on a good day. On others she leaves my mental state in something of a quandary. Somewhere between wanting her and wanting to wring her dainty little neck!

I can't help loving her but it is something that I try and hide. I'm not hiding from her, but from me. I need to function in this team and I can't do it if I'm constantly thinking about her.

Sometimes I can go HOURS without her crossing my mind, and I think I've forgotten about what we've got to share. And then I turn a corner and, WHAM! I see her and my head goes into deviant mode. I'm sure she must think that I don't think about anything else.

I can't help it if looking into her eyes puts an image of her lying beneath me and writhing against the soft silky sheets as I make love to her. No more than I can help pulling her into my arms when she desperately needs nothing more than a cuddle.

You tell yourself that you don't care. Sometimes I have to do that just to get through the day, and then when I climb into my bed, alone again, my body goes cold as the lie washes over me. Of course I bloody care! Too damn much.

She's under my skin, big time. She's also in my heart, permanently. Christ, she's even tucked away somewhere in my soul and I have no hope of evicting her from there, even I wanted to.

Which I don't.

Sometimes when she catches me unaware, on days that I find she's never from my thoughts, it's hard. It's harder because I know she knows, and I know that she sometimes wants to...talk about it. But how can I?

I am a man.

I have desires.

Unfortunately, she is my desire.

Every minute of the damn day, even though she is my friend - even though I am her friend and she would kill me if I abused that friendship.

I think.

Trouble is, I'm too scared to find out. I'm chicken. So sometimes, the little that I can get I make the most of. Like a cuddle. Like a chaste peck on the cheek. Like a tender smile. Like our little secret kiss that accidentally happens when she quickly turns and touches her lips to mine, squeezing that emotionally sweet moment out of me. She thinks it's her doing it, but it's not. Not that I'm ever going to tell her otherwise. It's too important. Precious. A moment that seems strange, but honest. Wanted, but scary.

But it's a beautiful moment.

It's 'our' moment.

And every chance I get to do it, I do, almost as much as every chance that I get for a cuddle, or a love pat. It's as far as I'm willing to go, for now.

But it doesn't stop me thinking about her or loving her, and I couldn't imagine life without having Abby Scuito somewhere around me. Whether it be in my thoughts, my arms, or in my soul.

Wherever she is, she's there for keeps.'