feeling like summer

You can't look away from that cleavage, sun-warmed and offered up like the best part of a long afternoon with nowhere to be.

You feel the heat before you even get close — the kind that rises off bare skin in July, slow and deliberate, making your mouth go dry.

You want to press your lips right where the shadow deepens, taste the salt there, let the whole lazy weight of summer collapse into something urgent and close and entirely about what your hands do next.