It was pouring. His kisses were like raindrops on my heart. My heart soaked up the tenderness of his touch, the feel of his body, and the passion of his embrace.
He told me he loved me. I heard it. But did I? I do not know. Maybe. Maybe not. I think so.
I asked. He hesitated. He kissed me. I asked again. He hesitated again. He kissed me again.
I wanted him to love me. Again and again.
Did he have to say it to make it real?
I knew he loved me from his tender touch, the feel of his body, and his passionate embrace. I knew he did. But I did not know if he said it.