With my cheek pressed to yours, I exhale. A shudder moves through you as my breath caresses your ear. The restless flexing of your fingers in the duvet makes me shiver, and I can’t stop once I start. The need to crawl inside you, to be united with my heart, is overwhelming. Holding you in my arms is everything I’ve ever wanted or needed.
You nestle your nose against my throat and inhale a hard, ragged breath, pulling the scent of my skin into your lungs. You nuzzle me as you exhale. You aren’t returning my embrace, but it’s not necessary. You mark me like an animal and take my mark on you in return. I feel you breathe me in again, then again, as if you’ve been submerged and without air for too long. Suffocating.
I know the feeling, my love. All too well.
Your body against mine is both hard and feverishly hot, like a column of stone that’s spent hours beneath the glare of the sun. You’re vibrating, every muscle reacting to the press of my body to yours. My indrawn breath fills my senses with the smell of you, a scent that takes me back to the night we met. Bonfire and salty air, the sharp bite of a storm carried on the evening breeze.
Ah, lilies, too. My chest aches with suppressed sobs.
You haven’t forgotten Lily.