At the end of the first date

I take a deep breath and lean
through half shut eyes, I see you closer.
Leaving sight behind,
faith and instinct tell me
our lips will touch.
It's raining on your street
lightly misting our shoulders, our hair.
A purring, growling sound rumbles in your throat;
it makes my belly hot.
Your moan is evidence of the power,
the pleasure here for us.
Cars go by;
I pull back, searching your blue eyes.
Speech is not necessary
When my lips communicate,
with soft, deepening pressure,
our attraction is real.