Page 101 of Paint the Town, Dove
But not us.
We were fucking infinite.
“My Dove,” he murmured, one hand around the back of my neck, another holding me up, legs wrapped around his waist. “My Dove.”
“Mhm,” was all I could muster out, because I was losing brain cells being this close to him, inhaling his energy, holding tight because I was scared of letting go.
He finished his tour, in our chosen home, by singing the song he wrote forme.
The song he wrote forus.
The song that healed some part of him, and in turn, that healed some part of our past.
“One more minute,” I begged, wrapped up in his embrace, hiding all my worries underneath the blanket of his safety.
“Take all my time,” he promised, pulling me closer. “It’s yours.”
***
For once, we held hands and I didn’t bat an eye.
For once, I allowed his heart and mine to shine – rays like a solar beam – together for everyone to see.
He wrote me asong. He wrote me a song. He wrote me a song.
It replayed in my head upon sliding down his body, holding him close, forehead to forehead. “How long did it take you to write that?”
His grip tightened around my waist. “How long have I known you?”
I was high.
High on life.
High on music.
High on Ryden fucking Spectre.
I could kiss him.Just fucking kiss him.
Give in. KISS HIS BLOODY FUCKING MOUTH YOU IDIOT WOMAN WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU.
Give in. Make him yours. His eyes, they’re staring at you with want, they’ve always stared at you this way, like a prince cursed to save his princess until he reached the very top, fell down the hill, and the last person he saw was me – me, the one who has been there through it all, ME, the one who has loved him through it all – ME.
Me and him.
Dove and Eagle.
KISS HIM, YOU GODDAMN IDIOT!
“Scar,” he whispered, throat bobbing, pupils dilating.Want, want, want.
“Mhm,” I raked my fingers through his hair, “Mm.”
“Use. Your. Words.” He closed in, “Tell me what you want.”
His breath danced with mine, our lips mere inches apart. Eyes, fuck, his eyes so impossibly green, like the aurora borealis in the middle of winter.
One good thing, Scarlett. You deserve one good thing.
