C53 Believe me

When there was a slight knock on the door, I was still standing in the foyer. A weary Steve was standing on my front doorstep as I flung it open.

His eyes were bagged, and a few days' worth of stubble covered his angular chin and jaw. He was dressed in dark suit trousers and a light blue button-up shirt that clung to every contour of his lean frame.

I felt a strong, moist longing as a clean