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“Maci, I love you more than I can ever put into words, but I want to spend the rest of my life trying. Will you marry me?”
I flip open the box to reveal the gold band, the sun reflecting off the round solitaire diamond–as if on cue–filling the space between us with a rainbow glare. She glances down again before her eyes are back on me. Her mouth opens like she wants to say something, but no words come out. I chuckle at her speechlessness. “Babe?” I bring one hand to her face, my fingers weaving into her hair as my thumb strokes the skin below her ear.
She nods, one of the tears welling in her eyes finally escaping.
“Is that a yes… ooooor,” I joke.
“Of course,” she spits out, her voice shaky. “Yes,” she adds in a bold, assured tone. “With you, everything is always a yes.”
I grin as I kiss her, realizing the ring box is still in my hand when I move to pull her closer. Confusion splashes across Maci’s face when I break our kiss. She follows my gaze to the ring. “Oh, yeah.” She chuckles.
Pulling the ring from the white satin, I hold it out, waiting for her finger. Her hand comes between us, but right as the gold touches the tip of her finger, she reaches to pinch it from me instead.
“What’s this?” She tips the ring to examine the inscription on the inside.
“The coordinates of our beach,” I tell her.
“The day we found our way back to each other,” she whispers with a smile as she slides the ring on her finger herself.
“I already knew we were meant to be together, but this was the place the Universe helped me prove it to you.”
“It’s perfect,” she says.
“You’re perfect,” I whisper against her lips before resuming our kiss. I lift her by her thighs, her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms around my neck at the same moment her lips meet mine. I pull back just enough to not trip over the door track, and then our mouths are joined again. Freezing at the edge of the bed, I break our kiss, my forehead pressed against hers.
Her breath is heavy from our few seconds of heated kissing. “What is it?” she asks at my hesitation.
“Nothing,” I say in place of sharing my jumbled memories flashing through my mind–the first time we had sex, the time I thought would be the last time, when I finally got to feel her again in Costa Rica, the first time she was officially mine.
Laying her gently on the white comforter first, I toss our bags onto the floor. When I turn back, she’s watching me, her hair draped across the pillow, one hand playing with the knot of her shirt, her other thumb rolling against the band of her ring, twisting it slightly.
Her smile brings every part of my body to life as I crawl toward her. I straddle her legs, reaching for the button of her shorts without breaking our eye contact. I tug down the zipper and loop my fingers on the band, tugging them down slowly as she watches my movements. With her shorts on the floor, I run my hands up her calves, her thighs, placing soft kisses up her leg and reveling in the chills left in their wake.
Sometimes she’s impatient, but not today. She’s letting me soak up every inch of her. I kiss her skin at the edge of her silky underwear before sliding my hands under her shirt, dragging it with them as they slowly rake up her stomach. She lifts her arms for me to tug it over her head, and before I can get back to undressing her, her hands find my hair, tugging my head to hers, some of my blond strands brushing her forehead. Her lips connect with mine and still, both a jolt of electricity and a rush of calm wash through me simultaneously. I pull back slightly, letting her keep me close with her fingers lazily twisting into the hair at the base of my neck as I hover over her.
Her hands smooth along my neck, down my chest and slip under the hem of my t-shirt where she tugs. Obeying her unspoken command, I shift my weight enough to pull my shirt off then kick the rest of my clothes off too. I remove her underwear as I kiss torturously slow up her stomach, stopping only when I reach the wire of her plain black bra. God, I’m so in love with this girl. She’s simple in all the right ways, never needing anything extravagant to be happy. Hell, how she’s watching me love her makes me feel like the only thing she needs is me.
I slide my hands between her and the mattress, unhooking her bra, before slowly starting to slip the straps down her arms. She sighs as my fingers trail against her skin, and I glance up, the adoration she has for me evident in every glimmering speck of gold in her brown eyes. I know she sees the same look reflected back in mine.
Her eyes shift to the side when a breeze causes the sheer white curtain to flutter, but they lock back on mine in the next instant. As I lean in to kiss her, she whispers, “I love you so much, Dean,” right before our lips touch.
The words and connection leave me needing all of her. I adjust myself until we align, and I push inside her slowly, giving her time to adjust. She was more than ready for me, but I still inside her anyway, savoring the level of intimacy a moment before slowly pulling out and pressing back in. We stay that way for a while, moving only enough to feel every place we connect as our tongues tangle in soft kisses. Her hand has found its way back to my hair, her fingers massaging through the strands. I’m propped up on one arm hovering over her. My other hand caresses the side of her breast. My thumb rubs over her nipple and elicits a moan from my fiancée. I swallow it in our kiss and pick up the pace, unable to contain my restraint.
She rolls her hips to perfectly meet my gentle thrusts into her. I break our kiss when my head falls to the pillow next to her, a groan escaping my lips. “You feel… indescribable,” I mutter against the skin on her neck, unable to find the right word. Her breathing picks up as her hand migrates to my hip, her fingers digging into the skin on my back.
“Dean,” she begs, searching for her release.
“I’ve got you, babe,” I whisper against her lips before I kiss her as hard as I thrust into her. I rock my hips, creating a new, faster rhythm. My fingers thread into her hair, keeping my kiss steady against her as the rest of our bodies move in sync. She bites into my lip, and I feel her breath catch as she tightens around me, waves of her orgasm pulling me to my own.
MACI
“Babe,howblackismy tongue right now?” I stick my tongue out with a giggle at Dean. We are almost finished eating our squid ink paella.
“Stop laughing so I can see,” he teases then sticks his tongue out at me, the pink almost completely black. The rest of his skin has continued to darken after long adventurous days in the sun, and his hair is at least a full shade of blond lighter, swooshed across his forehead in a way that looks both styled and messy. I know I’ll be happy as long as I have the man in front of me.
We drove to El Palmar, which is about an hour from where we are staying in Alicante, to try this paella restaurant one of Dean’s coworkers recommended. In Costa Rica, while we were daydreaming about perfect career paths, Dean envisioned a job we weren’t sure existed until we arrived here. Now, a few days a week he partners with a local guy at the Santa Bárbara Castle that's within walking distance of our place to lead tours. Two days a week he makes the two hour drive to Valencia to work with a tourist company. He tag teams the tours, Dean helping to translate when necessary–which is often with all the American tourists. It only took him a week or two to master the differences between Central American Spanish and the European dialect.
I try to hold my giggles in as he examines my tongue. “It looks pretty black, but I think I need a closer look.” He leans across the armrests of the wicker chairs dividing us, his hand wedging between my thighs before his lips touch mine. His other hand grips the nape of my neck, pulling our mouths together with more intensity. My lips part immediately, allowing him to deepen our kiss, the taste of authentic Spanish food on his tongue. God, I love being here with him. I love being anywhere with him. Remembering we are the only ones in the outside seating area, I melt into the kiss, the tingles I love so much traveling across my skin as Dean readjusts his fingers to thread through my hair.
