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Aug. 7th, 2007 03:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anythingbutblueWhen movement on the bed wakes her, Faye rolls over onto her stomach and pillows her head on her folded arms. Her eyes open, and she peers quietly over her arm at Gren as he sits up next to her.
It's not his chest, breasts half hidden by the hair that falls over his shoulders, that her eyes are drawn to first. It's not the less hidden distraction between his thighs, either.
It's his face she has to look at.
Those damn blue eyes are even bluer when his hair falls into his face like that -- which is almost all the time -- and it's that long dark hair that draws her eyes next. It practically cries out to be touched and felt, but before now she's always been able to resist it with no trouble.
Always.
The ends of his hair touch this curve in his lower back that nearly makes her heart speed up all by itself, and why is it that she never notices just how long his arms and legs are when he's wearing clothes?
It's a second or two before she realizes he's started looking back at her, and as though there's been nothing to see all along, she smiles with every ounce of feigned innocence that she can muster and lets her head sink into the pillow of her arms enough that her eyes are just barely visible over them.
Well, he can hardly blame her.
It's not his chest, breasts half hidden by the hair that falls over his shoulders, that her eyes are drawn to first. It's not the less hidden distraction between his thighs, either.
It's his face she has to look at.
Those damn blue eyes are even bluer when his hair falls into his face like that -- which is almost all the time -- and it's that long dark hair that draws her eyes next. It practically cries out to be touched and felt, but before now she's always been able to resist it with no trouble.
Always.
The ends of his hair touch this curve in his lower back that nearly makes her heart speed up all by itself, and why is it that she never notices just how long his arms and legs are when he's wearing clothes?
It's a second or two before she realizes he's started looking back at her, and as though there's been nothing to see all along, she smiles with every ounce of feigned innocence that she can muster and lets her head sink into the pillow of her arms enough that her eyes are just barely visible over them.
Well, he can hardly blame her.
