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When I’m all the way inside her, as deep as I can go, I stop and let myself feel her.
And I never move my gaze away from hers.
I savor the moment. Imprint it onto my memory.
This is the moment I made her mine.
The first time I made love to Maybe.
I will never, for the rest of my life, forget this moment.
Not the way she feels. Or the way her brown eyes deepen with need.
Not the words she says or the way her thighs tremble.
And certainly not the way I feel.
I will always remember this.
“I love you,” I whisper and brush my lips against hers. “More than anything in this world.”
“I love you too,” she whispers, and one small tear escapes her lids. “And I love making love with you.”
In this moment, I’m more certain than I’ve ever been.
More in love than I’ve ever been.
My heart is hers, and I’m going to marry this girl.
I’m going to marry her and spend the rest of my life making love to her.
THE END
