His Fingers Leave Streaks Of Cold On My Skin, Invisible To The Eye, And I Think About Wrapping His Shirt Around My Fist And Pulling Him In To Kiss Me; I Think About Pressing Myself Against Him, But I Can't, Because All Our Secrets Would Keep A Space Between Us.
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His Fingers Leave Streaks Of Cold On
Veronica Roth
His Fingers Leave Streaks Of Cold On My Skin, Invisible To The Eye, And I Think About Wrapping His Shirt Around My Fist And Pulling Him In To Kiss Me; I Think About Pressing Myself Against Him, But I Can't, Because All Our Secrets Would Keep A Space Between Us.
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