_top_ - Intimatepov

That's what intimacy is, isn't it? Not the loud moments. Not the declarations. It's the way your thumb traces the same small circle on my hip when you're lost in a book. It's the half-smile you give me from across a crowded kitchen, like we're sharing a secret no one else could hear.

I don't remember when I first noticed the way you breathe when you're almost asleep. intimatepov

This is my favorite place. Not a city or a room. But right here — in the space between your heartbeats, where I belong. That's what intimacy is, isn't it

Some people search their whole lives for a moment this quiet. And here I am — tangled in sheets and you — afraid to move, because moving might break the spell. It's the way your thumb traces the same

But then your eyes flutter open, still hazy with sleep. And you whisper, "Can't sleep either?"

The Space Between Heartbeats