She's in your bed. She's in your sheets. She's pretty, she's calm, and she's sweet. She sleeps like she hasn't seen the black of her shut eyelids for weeks. Somewhere inside, you feel as if she hasn't. You feel that maybe she hasn't slept soundly. Something about the way that she sleeps now, so long and so quietly, seems desperate and relieving, like a sigh. My entire fault, you think. All of it. Now and then, both the restlessness as well as the relief. Had you made the decision to be hers long ago, to let yourself go and push through to be proud of yourself, maybe she would have slept some, maybe with you by her side. But now, the way you see her, so quiet and in love, is something you can't help but be proud of. Being proud of yourself, it takes time. It takes time but when time is up, all you feel is this. This peace and silence and this feeling of everything just being so purely surreal. You're proud of this. You shouldn't be proud, but you are.
All you want to do is make her feel beautiful and make her know that you love her. All you want to do is kiss her lips and her cheeks and her wrists and her elbows and her knees and her chest and her forehead. Her pretty arms and lithe fingers, and thick knuckles, and her bare shoulders and the back of her neck. You admire the arch of her back, the line of her torso, the contorted sleep of her restless legs. You run your hand up the warm curve of her hip, and smoothly easing into her thin waist, up over her shoulders and around the back of her neck. You tickle the nape of her neck where baby hairs curl softly, the way she hates but you love it. You feel her adjust under the white comforter, shoving her hand under the pillow and pulling the sheet up over her chest to tuck it under her chin. You smile gently and giggle almost inaudibly. You still want to kiss her all over, you want to caress her velvety gorgeous pale skin, tap all her cute little auburn freckles, wind her unimaginably blonde hair around your finger.
You wake her carefully, wrapping your hand around the back of her neck like before, rubbing the side of it with your thumb. You place the gentlest of kisses to her temple and smile quietly when her eyes flutter. Her feet kick around slowly, warming them up. You race your foot up her calves and back down. She gives you a baby kiss, a tiny kiss so soft that it couldn't be felt unless you were waiting for it. You reply with a stronger kiss, right on the lips.
Hi, she says.
I love you, you respond. She only smiles and tucks her head under your neck but you pull her away from you and run the back of your hand down her arm, following with your eyes, and lace your fingers together once you reach her wrist. You look up into her baby blue eyes, smiling softly. You're beautiful, you say.
I love you San, she says. She blinks and kisses you. Never enough kisses okay?, she says. You nod. You want to kiss her all over, and caress her velvety gorgeous pale skin. So you do. You take her wrist and kiss the inside, kissing up her inner arm. When you reach the crook of her elbow, you kiss her bellybutton before kissing the other wrist and up to the crook of her elbow, kissing her bellybutton again. She's smiling at you now, and you kiss her lips. You hold her hands with your lips still on hers. You smile on her lips. You bring her arms up over her head, and kiss under her arms, peppering the kisses across her collarbones and under her neck, sucking softly behind her ears. You take her face in your hands and draw a heart from her hairline to her chin. You kiss her cheek and over her nose to the other cheek, trailing your lips up the side of her face to her forehead. You move across her forehead, each kiss softer than the one before. You reach the other side and come back to the center. You pull away, admiring her smiling face. Admiring her rosy cheeks, you stare into her eyes. You tap each freckle and she scrunches up her nose. You throw your head back and laugh. You come back and place a hand on her cheek, the other brushing her blonde bangs from her face.
Silly girl, you whisper and kiss the tip of her nose. She sticks her tongue out at you and you tap her nose playfully. She scrunches again and giggles; before long you join in. She wiggles under you and you pin down her shoulders, jeering at her with wide eyes and a smirk playing on your lips. She chuckles and pushes you off with a scoff. Oh, so you don't want me? you ask her.
Never! she says with a giggle.
Well that's too damn bad, you reply flicking her temple.
Yeah sure San, she says dutifully.
Yeah, you say, because I want you. I want you today and tomorrow and every day after that. I want you and me and this bed and that sun out there and that's it.
What about Lord Tubbington? she asks seriously.
Sure thing babe, you say, Maybe a couple cats to keep us company. And then a couple of Pierce-Lopez's and-
Lopez-Pierce. she whispers
What? you ask. This time you scrunch up your nose, eyebrows too.
Lopez-Pierce, she says, You come before I do.
You kiss her nose and you kiss her lips and you kiss her forehead and you kiss her ears and you kiss her neck and you kiss her chest and you kiss her stomach and you kiss her legs and you kiss her pretty knees and you kiss her ankles and you kiss her shoulders and you kiss her long arms and you kiss her wrists and her lithe fingers. You crawl up on top of her and take both sides of her face and she closes her eyes. You kiss the apples of her cheeks, and you kiss each eyelid, one by one, and you kiss her forehead. You crumble beside her, nestling into her side. You throw an arm over her waist and pull her into you and you push a foot between her legs, hooking it under her knee to heat up your icy cold feet and cool her always warm body. You push her hair away from the back of her neck and tuck it under her shoulder. You blow on her sweaty neck and kiss it, salty and moist and sweet, still smelling of her vanilla-ish and flowery perfume.
You want to kiss her all over, and caress her velvety gorgeous pale skin. So you do. And it feels incredible.
