Fingertips

“Let’s go,” he hissed, the impatient tapping of his foot harmonizing with the beating of her heart. She felt her muscles tense as she moved her limbs as quickly as they would go. He had that look plastered across his face, the one that said he wasn’t in the mood to tolerate anything. They should have been gone by now, they should have been gliding down the twisted gravel roads, but they weren’t and it was all her fault

She could feel him behind her, eyes peering down over her shoulder. His fingers slid along the small of her back, leaving a trail of pin pricks and she relaxed. Maybe he wasn’t angry, maybe it had faded. Her spine straightened and a smile spread across her lips as she turned around to face him, almost not registering that the palm of his hand had connected with the lower part of her jaw.

But he loved her. Really, he did.