Passionate Lust

Hands, not quite cold,
   yet chilling all the same. You
run
  them
       over me. Tracing
  each line.
       Press your lips to mine,
lust from soul to
            soul.
  A burning desire to
reach every
              inch of each
     other.
I trace your lips, watching them
                     part, your
         breath quick and warm.
   Your lips to my neck,
                            chilling,
exciting. Passion I hardly
                 knew
                     existed.