She’s been asked before.
“Tell me what you like.”
“Where do you want me to touch you?”
And though the questions seem kind, even thoughtful, they always make her smile sadly. Because if a man truly watched her, truly paid attention, he wouldn’t need to ask.
Desire isn’t always spoken. Sometimes, it’s written in her breath, in the shift of her hips, in the way her lashes lower when a certain fingertip lingers half a second longer.
She wants to be read, not directed.
And the men who wait to be told? They miss it all.
But one man didn’t ask. He watched. He noticed when her legs tightened slightly as he hovered near her knee. He saw the goosebumps bloom along her lower back—not when he touched her, but when he hesitated.
He didn’t need a map. He followed the signs.
And when he finally touched the place she never named—but always longed for—her breath caught like truth in the throat.
Because she wasn’t waiting for the perfect lover.
She was waiting for someone who could see her without needing instructions.
She won’t tell you what she wants.
But she’s showing you.
The question is—are you paying attention?