I less than 3 you.

Twenty-four hours had passed. Her sheer blouse still covered the bedside lamp. The memory of its rosy haze blanketing her naked curves melted back into his core. He fingered the delicate fabric, pulling it as slowly and gently as he had the night before. His breath hitched in his throat. The anticipation of the scent it would hold beckoned his response before the final threads left their final resting spot. Even in her absence, she gripped him. She pulled him in, the legs of her influence wrapping him up in a blinded tunnel. Through this uncharted territory he clamored. Picking up his phone, he realized no words coming from his mouth could carry the weight of his soul. So with a few nervous keystrokes, he told her as simply as he could. I <3 you.