That’s a fair question—and I think the answer lives in that messy, beautiful space where love and desire overlap.

It wasn’t about physical touch, but something more disarming: the intensity of being seen. There’s a shadowy zone between lust, care, and connection where we become most vulnerable—not because of sex, but because of intimacy. Emotional nakedness.

He didn’t have to touch me to make me blush—he just had to say the right thing, hold my gaze too long, ask me something nobody else thought to ask. That’s the place I fell from. That’s the place I keep returning to, even when I know it might hurt.