Page 67 of More With You

I can’t do justice to the way I feel about my wife, or the way that she makes me feel, but I’ll try, and pray that no one ever finds this particular entry! Call it a keepsake, so if there are ever hard times or moments in which we forget why we fell in love or the embers of our marriage threaten to go out, I can return to this page. Though, I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening. We’re a twin, eternal flame. I feel it burning inside us both whenever I touch her skin or kiss her lips or become one with her.

Writers of the world, forgive me. The same goes for you, my love, if you happen to come across this page. What can I say—I’m an artist, not an author.

Her skin is damp and cool from the water, prickling into goosebumps across the golden tan of her. The towels she’s laid down to stop the sand from singeing us brings wild pops of color to the muted gray, almost silver, of the inlet. I don’t see the neon yellow or rusty orange or aquamarine, I only see the river of life that gleams in her eyes: flecks of gold and olive and the blue of the shallows, painted in harmony. All around us, the early afternoon heat pulses like a heartbeat, warming the palette of the Gulf. The almost Persian blue of the sky is softened by the haze of a swollen sun, while the greenery is tinged with ochres and umbers, turning it almost autumnal in my mind, though it’s anything but fall. It’s Summer. Always Summer.

I taste the caramel of her skin. It’s salty and sweet, all at once, leaving the flavor of cocoa butter on my tongue. Addictive. This is how the world was supposed to be, before everything else got in the way—lovers, out in the open, enveloped in nature and each other, oblivious to anything beyond that. Besides, if anyone should walk this way and spot us, my body will be Summer’s camouflage. Though, they’re more likely to see us for what we are—newlyweds, desperately in love, unable to hold back the tide of their desire for each other.

“I love you,” I whisper, teasing her with my fingertips.

“I love you,” she gasps, clinging onto me: her hands running across my back, slipping slightly over the sunscreen that the water didn’t manage to wash off.

The burn of the amber sunlight and the fire of my body should’ve stopped her from shivering, but she’s trembling in my arms. I catch a shaky breath from her mouth, pushing it back against her blackberry-red lips, rouged by the sweet bite of our kisses. I would stop my teasing and satisfy us both, but the way she sounds, the way she moves, it sings to me, conjuring colors in my mind that I still have no name for. Summer’s ecstasy is a shade all its own, and I crave the appearance of it, like seeing a rare painting on display for the very first time. Only, I get to see it whenever both our hearts desire it.

And when she cries out, calling my name, it’s a blank canvas once more. The kaleidoscope of her shifts back to crisp white, waiting for the next stroke of my brush. It’s the pleasure of starting a new painting, wondering what details I’ll discover this time, from this fresh angle.

New colors jostle for space in my head as I sink into pure inspiration. The majesty of her. I see wonder in the steely blue of her veins, tracing the network of her life force with my tongue, my lips, my eyes, savoring everything. There’s divine beauty in the feverish pink of her cheeks, that dapples all the way down her throat and chest, feeding into the carmine-red of her nipples, stark against the honey tone of her skin. I take the tempting color into my mouth, tasting the heat and painting it onto the new canvas I’ve begun.

Every gasp and breath she takes is a pulse of her unique hues, brushed against my soul. Indelible. She grips onto me tightly, moving with me, painting our future together. We’re pale in comparison to the world around us, but we shine more vividly than anything else I can see. We’re a universe of possibility, and her love is a galaxy for me to explore. Her body is the brightest star, thrumming her power all around me, as a supernova builds inside us both.

I want to take it slow, to enjoy every shade of her, but the thrill of being out in the open with her makes my desire harder to control. I have to remind myself that there’ll be time. Years and years and years of bliss like this. We’re just at the start of it all.

“Ben,” she whispers, rolling her hips to meet me, our bodies in perfect unison. We understand the rhythm of one another now. “Ben, I—” Her voice is swept away by euphoria: her entire being succumbing to the undertow of pleasure.

It drags me with it, and there’s a thunderstorm of flashing lights inside my head, sparking every tint and pigment imaginable. I breathe her name, whispering it against her throat, whispering it against her mouth, giving my last brushstrokes to this beautiful canvas before it clears again.

Panting and smiling, we kiss. Her legs wrap around me, claiming me, and I don’t try to pull away. I’m exactly where I want to be. Instead, I pull her into me, rolling us onto our sides and reaching for a towel to cover us. She nuzzles into me, and I hold her tighter, our bodies still united.

“I love you so much,” she murmurs, etching the words into my chest.

“I love you more than you know,” I tell her, kissing her forehead. “Do you remember when I said I wanted more with you?”

She nods, sighing contentedly.

“I didn’t understand, back then, what that meant. I didn’t just get more with you, I got more than I ever imagined, more than I could’ve hoped for,” I say, needing her to feel what she means to me.

She tucks herself into me, drawing little lines on my skin with her fingertip. “I don’t think I knew, either,” she admits. “I keep thinking this can’t be real. I can’t have gotten this lucky.”

“It’s real,” I reassure. “And we’re only just beginning.”

Her lips spread into a grin. “Then, I can’t wait for the rest.”

For as long as I live, I’ll remember today. I’ll remember the drone of honeybees searching for nectar in the wildflowers. I’ll remember the flutter of damselflies and the multichromatic sheen of dragonfly wings. I’ll remember the coarse graze of sand against my heel. I’ll remember the scent of cocoa butter and coconut sunscreen. I’ll remember the warmth of her in my arms, and our carefree abandon. I’ll remember our courage and the way nature washed over us, keeping us secret from the outside world. I’ll remember it all, and think… God, I was so lucky. And if the fates are kind, when I remember today, decades from now, I’ll think myself even luckier to still have her at my side.

My wife. My love. My Summer.

22

SUMMER

“This is going to end well, right?” I whisper, on the doorstep of Ben’s family home. Even the air seems to know we’re heading into battle, crackling with tension and the distant grumble of a thunderstorm. All I can say is, at least I’m dressed more appropriately: white t-shirt tucked into a long, floaty skirt, with my hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Though, for the country’s elite, I might’ve gone too far in the opposite direction. Too casual.

Ben squeezes my hand, dipping to kiss my neck. “Whatever happens, we’re going to be fine.”

“Why are you whispering?” Grace eyes us both suspiciously. I realize how confusing this must be for her, seeing the pair of us in such an agitated state. For her, she’s just visiting her grandma and grandpa.

Ben takes hold of his daughter’s hand, too, forging a united front. “We’re going to tell Grandma and Grandpa about the wedding, and they might not be very happy about it.” He crouches down to her level. “You’ll have to go and play with Mae and Foster for a bit, but it won’t take long. No matter what, everyone here loves you, okay?”

The little girl’s dark blue eyes glitter with concern. “Why will they be upset?”

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