He had this way of making me feel like the only woman in the room and yet the last person he'd set his gaze on. I'd look at him from across a crowded party, waiting for his eyes to meet mine, to feel that warm sense of recognition that hit just the right spaces within me, yet were as frequent as witnessing a star firing across the sky.
He knew the words that filtered into my soul, the gestures I would cipher pure and the corners of my back where his hands would coast and land at exactly the perfect spot. He understood me the way birds know rain is nearing; how a tree senses growth in its limbs when warmth arrives.
At first I never noticed how easy it was for him to catch a woman's full attention; how his natural movements triggered awareness and attraction from those around him. Once I did see the varied shades of blue, green, hazel, and brown gaped upon him, I felt both a longing to hold him closer and a desire to run.
How could someone spark the wildest fire I'd ever felt yet know the fastest way to extinguish it? He didn't need to do or say anything to dim its blaze, all it took was watching and observing him to see how easily he could destroy me. It was this wanton destruction that pulled me in, like a moth nearing its death, flying toward the flame.
I don't know when or how many times I rose to my death in my pursuit of him, but I do know the mountains and hills that multiplied within me were seeded by the man I held both tightly in my grip and also let loose for fear of drowning.
You see, my dear, it is not that I don't want to open the gate for you to enter my house, it is merely that this doorway has been closed for so long, its guardian has forgotten where she left the key.