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Gently, he sets me down on top of the new gray and navy comforter, and stretches out atop me. “I missed you,” he whispers as he runs his hand down my cheek.
“I missed you too.” God, did I miss him.
“I haven’t even slept in here since you left.” His confession strikes me straight in the heart like an arrow. “Even with the new bedding, the thought of sleeping without you didn’t hold any appeal.”
Instead of speaking words, I tell him how much I understand with my lips. It starts gentle and sweet, but quickly turns ravenous and intense. Sawyer slowly strips my clothes from my body, savoring and tasting every part of me as if it had been years, not days. When I’m completely naked, he shimmies out of his clothes and grabs a condom from the nightstand.
He covers himself quickly and rejoins me in bed. I slip beneath the blankets, eager to start new memories in this bed. His hands are in constant motion, sliding along my outer thighs, back, arms, and finally, my chest. His touch ignites that constant burn, that ache that I’ve had ever since this man came into my life. It’s amazing how much I want–no, need–him.
Gently, he thrusts inside me, my body practically convulsing with need and relief at the same time. When he’s completely seated within, his eyes meet mine, alive with desire and so much love it makes my heart leap in my chest. His hands are warm and soft and he continues to touch every part of me.
Within minutes, I’m already climbing higher, my body filling with coiled tension on the verge of an epic release. My fingers grip his skin, my legs locking in a death grip around his waist, and my internal muscles squeeze his cock tighter with every thrust. There’s no way I’m letting go, and I’m not just referring to the now. I’m talking about tomorrow and the day after that. I’m thinking about years from now, when our home is filled with little footsteps and laughter. To when we’re old and gray and sitting on the back deck with a glass of lemonade (probably spiked) and watching the waves of the Bay.
I know, right now in this moment, that I will always fight for him, like he has fought for me. It’s not going to be easy, and at times I’m sure one or both of us may question the path we’ve chosen, but that’s love. It’s coming to a crossroads and deciding to take the same path–together. It’s forgiving him or her, along with yourself, when they make a mistake and do everything they can to make it right.
It’s never forgetting all of the million little reasons why you fell in love with that person in the first place.
And as we fly over the edge of bliss, together, each other’s names spilling from our lips, I know that I’ll always love him, faults and all.
“I love you, Alison Jane,” he whispers, his breath a pant against the shell of my ear.
“I love you, Sawyer,” I reply a split second before his lips could stop my words with a searing kiss.
A kiss meant to be a declaration, a beginning.
A kiss that is the start of something more.
