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Soft music played in the background, setting the mood as we basked in the afterglow of our erotic lovemaking. I lay on Noah’s chest while he reclined on his back with a hand folded behind his head. Releasing a sigh, I enjoyed our nakedness, humming when he grazed his fingertips down my spine. His heartbeat sounded like a calm, drumming rhythm.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured.
Hugging his body tighter, I left a chaste kiss on his chest near his phoenix tattoo. I couldn’t imagine any other man touching me; all I wanted was him. We lay like this for the longest while, tangled in each other’s arms.
“I’m so in love with you,” Noah confessed. “I can’t say it enough.”
I caressed his ribs and looked at his handsome face. Had God created this beautiful man just for me? Was I ever meant to have him this way? Were we destined to be together? I thought about Sophocles’Oedipus the King: the tragic play of incestuous love. No, I was not like Oedipus; he didn’t know that the woman he’d married was his mother. That poor man met an ill fate and became permanently blind because he’d stabbed himself in theeyes once he had discovered the horrifying truth. But what if that was just a metaphor? What if Oedipus didn’t physically blind himself? What if it was just an allusion to how love is blind? Does true love blind you, too?
It should liberate,my higher self-answered.True love heals.
If my relationship with Noah was to be written as a true romance novel, would people perceive it as the most nightmarish love story? Would it be banned from the world of literature? Would the reading audience be disgusted by our relationship and crucify us for loving each other this way? I couldn’t imagine loving him any other way—not like a daughter. It seemed impossible in my mind.
“I can’t change the way I feel about you,” he said. “I can’t fight it anymore. I’ve tried. I don’t care that it’s wrong. I don’t care that it’s wrong to love you this way. It takes a real man to have the courage to honor his truth.”
“Thank you for your bravery.” I stole a kiss from his addictive lips and rested my head on his chest. “Tell me a secret, Noah.”
“A secret?” He played with my hair. “Hmm. Okay.” Noah paused. “All my life, I was searching for you, not knowing how blind I was… all the poor decisions I made while seeking this love… all the hearts I trampled on—the karma I collected. True love doesn’t have a destination. You’ve been with me all along, inside of me… my mirror.” He sighed. “That one sucked. I can come up with something better.”
“That was beautiful.” I blushed.
“Pull me into your sea. Find true love within you, within me.”
“I love your poetic soul. You should write that one down.” I kissed his chest, relaxing in his arms.
“I’ll remember it. I used to write a lot of poetry. You inspire me.”
“Is that a sign of true love?”
“The most passionate poets of the past were deeply in love.”
We stayed silent for a while until I asked, “Are you afraid?”
Noah seemed to waver. “Yes. Honestly, I’m afraid you’ll leave and won’t love me anymore once I’m old and feeble.”
It saddened me to see such hopelessness in his eyes.
“You are Noah Mason Hunter, and you’ll always be young and desirable. Besides”—I simpered—“you only get hotter with age.”
“You’re puffing up my pride.” He chuckled.
“I’m serious. You’re like those types of men who become more attractive as they get older.”
“Well, thank you. That’s a major compliment.”
He shifted his body from underneath me, and the next thing I knew, he was in between my legs again.
“Round two already?” I giggled.
“Can’t handle my sex drive? I think it’s safe to say you’ve woken something in me I can never put to sleep. Take accountability for my sudden affliction.”
I couldn’t stop smiling. I loved this side of him: so unguarded. Our lips collided before Noah thrust into me. Drowning in sensation, he gave me deep strokes, staring into my eyes.
“I want you,” he whispered, panting in pleasure.
“You have me,” I whispered back.
“I want you all the time.”
