Maybe you should touch me in the way you really wanted

She already knows what you've been holding back. The careful restraint, the polite distance — she's done waiting for the version of you that asks permission twice and means it neither time.

Petite frame, outsized dare in her eyes. She's positioned herself exactly where your hands keep drifting in your thoughts, and she's not moving until you close that gap with something honest.

This is the moment after hesitation expires. Touch her the way your fingers actually twitch to — firm, deliberate, mapping what you've memorized without permission. She invited the real thing, not the edited version.