It was just a glance, that lasted for two, maybe three seconds. His large brown eyes met mine and held me captive for just that long, and I imagined the rest:
The feel of his fingers lightly caressing my face sent tingling lightning across my body. But he did it keeping my gaze locked onto him. He did it smiling, too. And when his fingers reached my chin, I felt an imaginary tug to lift my lips to meet his in a smooth, barely-there kiss drenched in passion. When I realized his hand on the small of my back, pulling me towards him feverishly, I knew that he had me... completely. I would follow him anywhere, just to feel myself in the curve of his arms, against the line of his torso, warm in his heat.
When he looked away I felt a chill unlike I had ever dreamed possible. My body wilted a bit in a physical reaction to his machismo. The air temperature dropped a few degrees, or maybe it was just me. And my fingertips burned with longing.
Moments passed and it was all just a (deluded?) memory of a pair of daring eyes and an unrealized fantasy. Still... could it be more?