Page 6 of Forever Christmas
I think about making a joke about the melting chocolate, but her face is so earnest, so fragile, that instead I lean down to kiss her.
She accepts it, her lips parting slightly.
I know her. She’s all I’ve ever really known. Her mouth. Her body. Her responses. She is everything. I have literally no recollection of anyone else. We were always meant to be. The four years we spentapart simply disappear, off in the distance, lost and forgotten. A blip in the passage of time. Not even a centimeter eroded on the landscape around us while we went through all that.
As if the universe has heard my thoughts, the wind kicks up and the sun slides behind a cloud, giving us a break and a cooling breath.
My hand moves to her buttons again and slowly, carefully, I release each one.
When my fingers cup her breast, she sighs against my mouth. I have her now. She is my Corabelle, my love. I shift over her, releasing her mouth to make my way down her jaw, her neck, her delicate collarbone, then the swell above the lace of her bra.
I slide my hand beneath her back, reaching for the clasp. It lets go, and I tug on the lace with my teeth. My mouth closes over the warm swollennipple, and she arches up to meet me.
She is mine. I move more swiftly now, bracing on my elbow and moving my hand out from behind her to pluck open the snap to her jeans.
I know what she needs. I tug them down, the denim sliding over her hips. Her panties are soft blue and simple. I already knew this. I pretty much always watch her dress in the morning. It’s one of the best parts of my day.
We are not often out naked on a bright day like this, and the tiny lightning bolts of her stretch marks are prominent across her belly. She is no longer shy about them. I kiss each one, tracing their path down her abdomen. The evidence of Finn. I think of him every time.
She kicks her heels against the rock to knock off her shoes. One flies away and rolls off our plateau. I’ll fetch it later.I pull her jeans all the way off, my lips still pressing against her bare stomach.
When I’ve got her legs free, I part her knees and fit myself between her calves. My fingers flirt with the edges of the panties. She sucks in a breath. She knows where I’m headed.
I tug on the soft fabric, exposing her hip, then the first flirty hint of downy hair. I make my way farther down, taking the pantieswith me as I go.
When they’ve cleared her ankles, I lean in, gently sweeping my tongue against all my favorite spots. She lets out a soft sigh, her hands grabbing the edges of the blanket.
I’m done with gentle now, diving in and using all my knowledge of her to my advantage. Corabelle cries out, spreading wide, her voice echoing off the walls of the canyon.
Her hands bury themselves in my hair.I add fingers, moving faster, and I know right when she loses it, pulsing against me, her voice rising.
I bring her down carefully, massaging her thighs. Sometimes after an emotional day, being together like this can set her on an emotional spiral. She flings her arm over her face, but after only a moment, she recovers and sits up.
Her hands reach for my shirt, pulling all the snaps apart ina single swift motion.
Oh, this girl.
I toss the shirt as she reaches for my jeans. I have to pause to unstring my boots, and in my hurry to set them aside, one of my boots joins her shoe off the edge. We both laugh as I wrap my arms around her waist.
“You going to give me sore knees?” she asks. “Again?”
“I’ll do my best.” I roll up the side edges of the blanket as a cushion for her. “How’sthat?”
“Good enough,” she says, bringing her leg up and over me as easily as she did the motorcycle.
I picture her riding my bike naked, and I’m so hard I feel like I could break the rock we’re lying on.
She settles her knees, then shifts her body over mine.
It’s like sliding into bliss. The sun shines down on her, as brightly as if we were riding one of its rays. She’s beautiful, like a goddess,and it’s not hard to imagine that the light comes from her and not the other way around.
She moves over me, knowing me just as well as I do her.
We fit. Always did. From that very first time in her parents’ sunroom to that sweet beautiful night in her apartment after we found each other again.
And now, we glow as if the world wants to pour all its beauty into one spot for the day.
She rocksagainst me, her eyes closed. Her breasts sway over me and I can barely hold anything in. When I feel her movements get more deliberate, I grasp her hips and increase the pressure, the intensity, the drive.
She loses it again, leaning over me, her voice in my ear. I release into her, pulsing with the bliss, overwhelmed by how she lets go, how she loves me, how we are together.
Her body flattensagainst mine, her head on my chest. My fingers trace her skin. My Corabelle. We stay like this for long minutes, time dropping away like the trickles of water in a cavern.
Only later, when we’ve dressed and I’ve hopped down on one foot to retrieve our errant shoes, do I realize we haven’t used condoms since I told her about the vasectomy.
But we might want to think about them now.
