When he looks at me, it’s like a physical blow.  I sway a little, feel the heat rising, flushing my cheeks, and I can’t help but smile.

It’s the effect of a crack of thunder, an unexpected glimpse of something amazing.

I feel so special when he looks at me, touches me, absently puts his hand on my waist or the small of my back.

I feel like I’m floating when he puts his hand on my cheek and kisses me.  His large warm hands, slightly rough, more touching me than guiding me, the feel of his lips on mine, soft gentle pressure, love pouring from every gesture.

He turns his face and I absorb every detail of his profile, amazed at how this man can be so strong and powerful, yet treat me so gently.

He makes me feel more treasured, loved, than I ever thought possible.  I love to make him laugh, thrill at the deep rumbling of his voice when he puts his mouth right next to my ear so only I can hear, his breath warm on my neck, his stubble catching my hair, his words caressing me.

It’s so easy to lose myself in him completely, like I’m falling in slow motion, wrapped in joy.