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“And up next is… Kristen Smith!” the DJ called.
In spite of how upset and confused I was, a warm feeling settled over me at hearing my name called out like that. It was still so new to hear his last name after my first, and a little part of me giggled like a schoolgirl about it. The rest of me waffled between standing up and going toward the stage and shaking my head and refusing to acknowledge that it was now my turn.
I got up anyway.
I was on my honeymoon, I thought. If there was ever a time that I could make a fool of myself and no one would judge, it was now. Besides, I didn’t know these people. Only Camden would ever see me after we left this place, and I had watched his repeatedly hilarious attempts at winter sports. Now he would see my most likely hilarious attempt at singing.
The song’s name came up on the screen as I reached the stage, and I smiled. It was an old Madonna song that I had sung in the car with him a bunch of times. As the music swelled and the lyrics began to scroll, I took a deep breath and tried to find the note. It turned out all I needed to do was look at Camden’s open, happy face and the music poured right out of me.
As we walked back through the snow-covered grounds toward our cabin, our hands clenched together as tightly as they ever had. We were in love. Madly, deeply in love. It was a feeling that I had never experienced, and suddenly the lyrics of a thousand songs, including the infamous Madonna one I had just belted out in public, made sense. I understood them, not just from a place of knowing the emotions existed, but from feeling them myself.
We laughed and chatted as we braced ourselves against each other and against the cold. Somewhere in Texas, it was a warm eighty degrees at night, and people went home in shorts and skirts and turned up the air conditioning to go to bed. But high in the mountains of Colorado, we pulled our coats tighter, thankful for the alcohol that currently coursed through our veins, warming us up artificially, and made our way back to a cabin where we would start a roaring fire.
It hit me that I could live like this forever. Even in the cold, which I normally hated, I was at home, at peace, with Camden at my side. Sure, I would want to see my mother and my friends. I would miss the warmth and the wide-open space of Texas, the smell of the ranch and the farm that surrounded it. I would miss the Texas-ness of Texas. But if I had to stay in Colorado, stay in those cabins, for the rest of my life, well, I figured I would be just fine doing that too.
As long as Camden was there with me, I could probably live just about anywhere.
We had been having a blast being silly together, enjoying poking fun at ourselves and being embarrassed in front of each other. It was so freeing to not have to pretend in front of him. I could be goofy and childish around him, and he accepted it, reveled in it even, and never once made me feel less sexy, less desirable. Nor I to him, either. In fact, the more I laughed with him, the more I found myself pulled to him, sewn up in him in such a way that to make us separate would take cutting us apart.
And how easy it was to go from laughing to serious and back to laughing again. We laughed at nothingness, we laughed at television. We laughed at goofy faces we could make and words that we said. We laughed when we were rolled up in each other, naked, playful and amorous. And never once was our love a joke.
Then, sometimes, our eyes would meet, and the laughter would fade away, in its place a feeling of intense desire. Of longing for each other, a need to make up for time lost. Like our souls had been separated at birth and were finally joined together. Touching him, even something as simple as to trace my finger down his arm, was to drink from the cup of wholeness. To smother myself with him was to rejoice in an ecstasy of oneness.
As we made it into the cabin, that laughter had faded, replaced by the sounds of our mumbling voices as we tried to make as little noise as possible until we were inside. There was plenty of space between the cabins, but we were both aware how loud we could be inside. At least we should keep it down when we weren’t.
Our inability to keep it down as we made out on the porch, his hand fumbling with the key, made us giggle again, and we shushed each other, only making us laugh harder. When the door finally opened, I made a joyous sound like I had found my Christmas tree overflowing with presents. In a way, I had. I had the gift that would keep giving for the rest of our lives.
The door shut behind him, and he swept me into his arms, carrying me to the bedroom. I placed my lips on his before he sat me down and refused to break them apart as my knees hit the mattress. We tore each other’s clothes off eagerly, as if it were the first time, and as he curled into me in the bed, I sighed in happiness.
His thick, throbbing cock entered me, and I felt the power of our love, our connection, our passion, fill me to the brim. I would overflow soon, crying out into the midnight hours with a moan of passion that rattled from deep in my chest. He would join me, and the symphony we would make would be the greatest song I had ever heard.
But first, his tender, powerful body poured over mine, not leaving an inch of skin untouched, not a sensitive area un-kissed. Our fingers interlaced as he held my hands down on the mattress, his chiseled body over mine as he rocked into me, were like the bond that tied us together. Our eyes burned into each other as we came, together, the climax pushing me into a sensation of such intense pleasure that I felt like I would pass out, lose consciousness under him. And at the brink of that moment, he would whisper in my ear, and my body would go limp with the sound of his husky voice.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” I said back.
And I meant it.
Forever.
27
CAMDEN
We were home. My home. Our home.
Well, almost.
We had made it as far as the Texas border, crossing into Texline, Texas, which as far as I was concerned, meant we were home. It still, in reality, meant we had a twelve-hour drive or so to get to the ranch. We’d be home before nightfall, if everything went to plan, and even if it didn’t, we’d still end up sleeping in our bed together tonight.
Kristen had zonked back out fifteen minutes into the drive. I didn’t blame her. She had stayed up all day yesterday with me as we stopped all along the road at tiny attractions and markets, filling up our time and seeing the Midwest on our way back. Originally, we had planned on a much longer drive, going west a bit and heading back through Arizona to get into Texas. But the offer to stay at the cabins for a bit longer was too good to pass up, and I didn’t think either one of us had any regrets.
We’d see the country on another trip. We had all the time in the world.
I pushed the sunglasses up and set my arm in the window, letting the rapidly warming breeze fill my sleeve with air as I drove along. Soon enough, I’d need to roll up the window and turn on the air, but for now, I wanted to smell Texas. Kristen had a thin blanket over her, and she crunched it up in her fists as she turned to the side, a contended smile on her face.
This was perfect.
