She lay there, end to end with him, tops and tails, just staring as he slept.
His chest rose and fell profoundly, as if his dreams were causing him to sigh. He
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breathed deep abdomens of air, yet snored very little.
She allowed her eyes to meander the whole length of his body, starting at his toes, cradled between the sofa and her, to his groin, abdomen, his blue sweater, chest hair creeping through V-neck, all the way to that big beautiful brain of his.
It was his genius she loved the most.
Oh, to HAVE his mind.
To hold it.
Moscanovski
Taken from Moscanovski Writes — The Excerpts — Volume 1 (Coming Soon)
