She tangled her arms around his neck, the scent of his lavender laundry soap and his spiced cedar skin crowding her senses. His chest vibrated as he hummed in laughter; half amused, half triumphant.
“Quite obsessed with me. . . aren’t you?” he asked.
She rested her forehead against his shoulder, her skin grinding into his sweater as she nodded. An arm gently wrapped around her waist, warmth – his own warmth – enclosing her. His lips dropped to her ear, his voice as soft and dark as the wool of his clothing.
“I thought women were supposed to be independent?” he teased. “Isn’t it a betrayal to hold onto me like this?”
Her arms tightened around his neck. She shut her eyes.
“But I need you. . .” she whispered back in his ear. “And I can’t think of anyone I wouldn’t betray to keep you.”
—–
Deidrea DeWitt
5.17.22