She sat waiting, hoping. He slid through the door and was instantly by her side. Are you sure? He asked her. Searching her eyes for any sign of hesitation.
More than anyone she wanted this. More than anything she wanted him.
Their eyes locked, refocused, in the darkness.
Harry.
It was the only word he needed. As lips descended on hers she prayed. She prayed that it would never end, that he would never go away. She wanted to be in that moment forever.
Lips crashed together, tongues battling for dominance, soft hands dwarfed in his. She swore her heartbeat could be heard for miles. He lifted her and without separating them, moved in the darkness.
Flattened, lumpy pillows surrounded her head, but sheets so soft she could swear they were silk. Her hands tangled in the sheets, his hair, nails scaring harsh red lines down his back.
They crossed lines that could not be restored, boundaries shattered. In only an instant.
She woke to light streaming through the window, tangled in the sheets. It hadn't been a dream, he was there with her. Without hesitation she got up, got dressed, made her way to the door.
They kissed, trying in vain to hold on to the night before, but still she rushed out the door, just in case.
Two weeks later, again, hands gripped so tight to keep them together. Knuckles white, nails digging, successfully she leaves a mark. Marks him as hers. Always.
Lips on her neck, her ear, her shoulder.
Hand on the small of her back, keeping her there, against him.
Her arms trying desperately to wrap around him, trying to hold him they way he held her. She settles for gripping a bicep, long slender fingers in his hair. Porcelain skin peeking through black hair, coarse, rough, not quite long enough to hold with the force she craves.
His voice gentle, soothing, in her ear.
Pulling back she sees him, looks at him, searches his eyes. Traces the scars there. She looks for her feelings mirrored in him. She is surprised. She realizes how much she wishes for him to love her.
Months and months they carry on this way, touching, loving. So long it is uncomplicated.
She can't help herself from saying the one thing she can never take back.
I love you.
He stands naked, afternoon light spilling onto his body. Not the body of a god, but still, to her, perfection.
She lays, blonde hair sprawled across the pillows, words tumbling out of his mouth.
I love you too. More than anyone. But I can't. As much as I love you I can't. We can't.
Still, cold, he lifts the sheet. Cold eyes staring up, ribbon round her neck, not lying limp against her bare chest. He looks, only once, it's enough.
To Your Wife.