Page 30 of Spit Screen

I walk to her slowly and pull her close. “I love you, Emma.”

“Addy.”

I love the playful nature of my relationship with Emma, but there are times when the depth of my feelings for her acts like the force of gravity. I’m pulled toward her—rooted in place by her. It’s unlike any other feeling I’ve experienced. Attraction and lust have always existed between us, and when those emotions take the stage, playfulness adds to our exploration. But when gravity grabs hold of me, I need something deeper—to look into Emma’s eyes and give myself to her—lose myself within her.

Emma leans into the embrace, her eyes twinkling with affection and mischief. “Afraid you’ll confuse Lassie with Rin Tin Tin again?” She teases, but her voice softens as she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer.

As the sun sets outside, its warm glow filters through the windows, filling the room with a golden hue. It’s moments like these when time stands still, and silence echoes. I see a tear glistening in Emma’s eyes. This is the place where we find solace and completion in each other.

As we stand intertwined, I feel her sigh against my neck—a contented, heavy breath telling me more than words ever could. We both feel our connection—a shared understanding and a history that has weathered both dazzling highs and devastating lows. There’s no music, but I gently sway like a soft chorus of horns serenades us. Emma pulls back to look into my eyes, a gentle smile tugging the corners of her mouth.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Addy,” she says.

There’s no point in denying Emma’s observation. I lean in and softly claim her lips. The kiss begins gently, our tongues exploring and communicating without words.

“I love kissing you,” Emma says.

“Still?”

“Always. Sometimes, all I want is to kiss you.”

I tip my head playfully.

“Sometimes. Not tonight,” Emma clarifies.

A smile graces my lips as I delicately unbutton her shirt. My kisses set fire to her skin as they trail up her neck and gently caress the sensitive spot behind her ear. Every touch ignites a spark between us, making my heart beat faster with desire. As Emma’s shirt falls to the floor, I hold my breath. Every time I make love with Emma, my heart overflows with a rush of emotions, making the experience feel new. Cliche or not, it’s a feeling I never want to lose.

Emma lifts my t-shirt over my head and tosses it aside; the only sounds are our heartbeats and the faint rustle of fabric. She steps back, her eyes inviting me to follow as she leads us toward the bed.

The sunlight that spills through the window fades into a subtle orange glow that dances over Emma’s skin, highlighting her curves with an ethereal light. She looks otherworldly, like a celestial being who has graced me with her presence. As she sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me towards her, I can feel the electric charge of our closeness.

“Addy,” she whispers, her voice heavy with emotion and need. Her hands find my face, pulling me down for another deep, consuming kiss.

I push her back onto the bed and tug her pants from her legs. She lifts a brow at me, and I chuckle. “Yes?” I ask.

Emma’s eyes drop to my jeans.

“Oh,” I say, jumping off the bed. I struggle to undo the button on my jeans before realizing it’s a snap. I finally unzip them, but in my haste to escape their grip, my foot gets caught in the cuff, causing me to fall back onto the bed comically. “Ugh,” I groan, trying to untangle myself from the fabric. Emma’s infectious laughter invites me to giggle despite my embarrassing predicament.

“Come here,” Emma says.

I grin and crawl back up the bed toward her. She reaches out, her hands tracing lines across my shoulders, down my arms, and finally wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer until our lips meet again.

“Not exactly Romeo, huh?”

“He’s not my type,” Emma says.

“Juliet, then,” I whisper against her lips. Her soft laughter fills me with gratitude.

Emma’s fingers tangle in my hair as she deepens the kiss. Her other hand roams down my back, sending shivers spiraling through me. My hands explore the soft curves of her body. Breaking away just enough to speak, I trail kisses along her jawline to her ear.

“On that subject, who played Juliet in the 1968 film version of Romeo and Juliet?” I ask.

Emma pulls back slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. “Olivia Hussey,” she answers.

My brow furrows, and I huff.

Emma shakes her head with amusement. “You didn’t even know the answer, did you?”

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