He reaches for me, and I love him, and I kiss him back with tender vigor, drawing my breaths from inside his little gasps.

He rises up, and I cup his head in my palm, fingers raked through his thick hair, supporting his head to ease his neck. I tilt his mouth against mine, gasping; he makes such a pretty sound and I move to kiss his sharp cheekbones, the line of his jaw, his temples and his brow. Gentle, worshipful kisses; I can't give him enough. He is handsome and beautiful in my eyes. In the eyes of anyone who can see.

I've rolled closer, I know I shouldn't, but I have and the motion has pressed his chest against mine and I can feel the thunder of our hearts rebounding against each other. I could cry for joy.