He brought his hands up to my face so I would look at him and stop talking. It took forever but I finally did stop and then he kissed me. Lightly, slowly this time, the whole while pulling off my sweater, unbuttoning all the things keeping us apart. He pulled his shirt over his head and then he turned me away and gave me a shove, face first into the quilts. When I tried to get up he was right there against me, one hand on the back of my head, keeping me down and the other hand spread wide across my abdomen, pulling me up against him. The faster he went the tighter he held my head and by the time he turned me back over to face him, to kiss him, there was very little left of me to hold because he used me all up.
My skin trembles and cools in the dark and Loch pulls me back in hard against his chest. He says things that make my broken heart itch as it heals on the spot and then it breaks free and takes flight and I can hear it exclaim high above the clouds as it shouts for joy.
One more kiss and I let go of consciousness and sleep so hard I missed the alarm and am late for work. So is he.
Which is okay, actually because when the boss (Caleb for the time being because sometimes things are busy and he mostly hates all of the temps the agency sends because let's face it: they're not me) expressed his displeasure at my inability to make it over in time for a conference call with the UK I gave him the same graphic description and wouldn't you know it, he stopped talking right away.
Makes for a lovely quiet day now. I needed this. I needed all of this.