Kiss the Flame

"My body will be one with you, my heart will be caught in the whirls of your frenzy, and the burning heat that was my life will flash up and mingle itself in your flame." ~Rabindranath Tagore

May 2013. Rural Virginia.

"You're overdressed." David succinctly informed her as he handed her the plate of Crostini Rossi, now beautifully topped with tomatoes and cheese and herbs.

"Am I?" Erin's eyes were wide with feigned concern.

He motioned to his own attire, which was the simple smoking jacket. "As you can see, dinner dress is casual at Casa di Rossi."

With a grin, she set down the plates, moving to unfasten the buttons of her dress, but he quickly stopped her, his tone becoming husky as he spoke, "Allow me."

She nodded, letting her hands fall to her sides as David's capable hands made quick work of the row of buttons, pulling back one side of the dress to find the smaller button on the inside, which held the dress together. This gesture revealed one breast, encased in a lovely black-lace-over-emerald cup.

"This is, by far, my favorite present to unwrap," he admitted, and she gave a knowing smirk in response. That was one of the many things she loved about this man—it didn't seem to matter to him that her body was not the firm, toned thing it had been 20 years ago, because he never ceased to be in absolute awe and adoration of her form, regardless of how it changed and shifted over time. With David, she always felt effortlessly sexy, because simply being herself was enough to turn him on. There was something freeing in that realization, and Erin embraced it whole-heartedly.

The inside button was undone and David got to unwrap the other half of her body, his breath stopping as he took in the full effect of Erin's final surprise for him. She'd taken the pinup idea to heart—her garter straps had little emerald bows on the front, which led up to a black lace garter belt, over high-waisted black bottoms that only defined the curve of her hips and the tuck of her waist, and her breasts were beautifully (and barely) contained in an emerald and black lace balconette bra, the colors accentuating her creamy skin. He didn't think it possible, but her eyes seemed even more electric, their green hue further intensified by the emerald accents.

She bit her lip, feeling a certain delight at his reaction. He stepped forward again, his hands pulling her hips into his as her arms automatically wrapped around his neck, her mouth finding his like a heat-seeking missile. She didn't have to ask how he felt about her outfit—she could feel his approval pressing against her hip, to which her core responded by filling with another rush of wet heat.

Normally, this would be the point where things spun out of control, and they would probably end up on the kitchen floor. But now, they had time, and they could enjoy the anticipation just a little bit longer. Erin pulled back, trying her best to look reprimanding as she said, "Dinner first."

She stepped back, delicately avoiding her dress, which was crumpled on the floor. With a soldering look over her shoulder, she leaned over to pick up the article of clothing, giving David a tantalizing view of her ass.

"For someone who's such a neat-freak, you really do leave a lot of clothes lying around," she chided playfully, walking back into the dining room and draping the dress over the back of a chair. She returned to the kitchen to help him with the plates, and David couldn't resist the urge to lean over and give her garter strap a quick snap. Erin gave a slight yip of surprise, her face flushing again as she tried to look stern and disapproving (but only because she knew that part of him enjoying taunting her, like a little boy teasing his first grade-school crush). Then she turned on her heel and sashayed back into the dining room, leaving an absolutely delicious vision in her wake.

David's skin felt like it was two sizes too small and his blood was singing with the joy of things to come. Like Erin, he was learning what a refreshingly wonderful luxury time was, and he silently agreed with her verdict that food should come first. Tonight, she was staying all night—not to leave in the early morning, not to go away and shut him out, not to pretend that their touches and cries and caresses had meant nothing—and they were both going to need all of their strength.

David grinned as he picked up the glasses (water for them both, since Erin couldn't have wine and he couldn't be so cruel as to drink in front of her). This was definitely the best birthday ever.

Erin's light eyes watched David's dark ones, which were focused on her breasts. All through dinner, he'd hardly been able to tear his gaze away from them. Not that she blamed him—they were high and on display, almost pouring out of their cups, so uninhibited that they trembled with every movement that she made.

He was at the head of the table, she was seated adjacent to him—halfway through dinner, she'd slipped her foot out of her heel and now her right leg was splayed over his lap, her stockinged toes softly and slowly rubbing his inner right thigh in a way that was more comforting than sexual (because more than anything, she wanted to keep him grounded, keep him here, keep him away from thoughts of tomorrow and the sadness it would bring). His left hand was massaging her calf muscle with the same easy absentmindedness, as if they'd been this loving and affectionate all of their lives.

Still, her boobs were stealing the show, and she couldn't resist the amused smirk that danced across her mouth as she leaned forward (enhancing their effect) as she quietly asked, "Have you found something more…appealing to your taste buds, my love?"

He actually blushed when he realized that he'd been staring, and Erin found it adorable.

"I'm not used to seeing this much of you," he admitted. "Unless we're actually having sex."

She gave a sad smile as she realized the truth behind his words. But she leaned forward again, her hand finding his under the table, "I know. And I promise, we'll remedy that."

"That's one promise I'll definitely be holding you to," his grin deepened as he wagged his eyebrows mischievously, which earned him a short laugh from his dining companion.

"Of that I have no doubt, Mr. Rossi."

"Ladies first," David motioned grandly up the staircase, and Erin gave him a knowing grin. She stopped, steadying herself on the banister as she pulled off her heels—there was no way in hell she was taking on a flight of stairs in those things—handing them to David, who was already carrying his gun and the clothes they'd scattered all over the dining room (because as Erin had correctly stated before, David Rossi was a bit of a neat freak, and everything had a proper place).

"If you're going to stare at my ass the whole way up, you might as well make yourself useful." She said dryly, as she began to mount the stairs.

He reached forward, popping her garter strap again.

"David!"

"That was for the sass, ma'am."

"You've never complained about my sass before," she purred, putting more sway into her hips as she continued upwards.

"I'm definitely not complaining now," he returned warmly, his grin deepening as he heard her chuckle. She reached the landing, looking around uncertainly. He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the master bedroom.

Erin bit back a wave of trepidation as they crossed the threshold—all the times before, it had been a hurried, unplanned, unthinking affair, taking place in the detached and impersonal settings of various hotels, places without memories or sense of belonging. For the first time, they were moving slowly, with thought and consideration, in David's home, among his possessions and his memories. They weren't strangers in the night. They were lovers.

David sensed her hesitancy, but he kept moving, letting her stand by the door as he placed his gun in the safe, their shoes in the closet, his clothes in the bathroom hamper, her dress on a hanger. She slowly moved into the room, anxiously rubbing the finger that no longer held a wedding ring.

He stopped, taking a moment to make eye contact as he gently reminded her, "It isn't any different than before, bella."

"But it is," she countered softly, her eyes filled with fear. In some ways, she was right. But he knew that agreeing with her would only heighten her uncertainty, so he refrained.

He quietly removed his watch and his ring, setting them in their appropriate places in the wooden box on his dresser. She watched with careful eyes, silently exploring this new world that he'd allowed her to enter—these were the little moments that she'd never gotten to witness before, the little stones that would build the great wall of Life Together, the knowing of simple habits that created the gentle intimacy which they'd denied themselves for so long.

"It isn't," he reassured her, moving towards her again, pulling her close, relishing the feel of her soft body molding to his. "See. Does this feel any different than before?"

She didn't answer, but she took a deep breath, as if she were weighing the question in her mind. He reached up, easily finding the pins in her hair and gently pulling them out one by one, watching in soft wonder as her curls slowly began to fall around her face and shoulders, tempering the sharp lines of her shoulders and collarbone. He set them back on the dresser (and she smiled at the thought that he couldn't just let them fall where they may) before turning back to her. He cupped her uncertain face with his hands and kissed her forehead (now that her heels were off, she was shorter than he was again, and the familiarity of these levels was comforting), his mouth traveling down to meet hers sweetly and tenderly.

"Does this feel any different than before?" He repeated his query.

"No," she admitted softly, her eyes flickering up to meet his again as she realized what he was doing. His hands moved downward, pushing down the straps of her bra, savoring the smoothness of her skin.

"Does this?"

"No," she breathed, closing her eyes as she leaned into his touch, seeking out his warmth. His mouth went to her neck as his hands traveled down to her breasts, massaging them as he nipped her flesh with his teeth, following each mark with a kiss.

"And this?" He asked between kisses, between tastes of her skin.

She simply hummed happily in response as the slow burn that had been tapered by fear suddenly reignited beneath her skin, her head rolling forward as she kissed the dark head that was now at her breasts, her fingers nesting in his salt-and-pepper locks.

His hands were on her hips, guiding her back towards the bed, and she gladly followed his lead, their bodies breaking contact as she sat on the edge, looking up at him expectantly.

In the stillness, the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed midnight.

Erin's face lit up in a devilish grin as she repeated her first words to him, "Happy birthday, David."

His name on her lips held their entire history—the good, the bad, the ugly, the every-little-thing-in-between—and he felt another rush of excitement at the realization that finally (finally!), they were acknowledging all the years and moments between them. His grin mirrored her own as he leaned forward, planting his hands on either side of her hips as his mouth captured hers in a quick kiss, "You sure know how to throw a helluva surprise party, mia cara."

Her fingers gently traced the line of his jaw, the adoration in her eyes unmistakable as her lips returned to his. The tender kiss turned into something deeper as their tongues found each other again, and her hands were firmly cupping his face as she pulled him forward. However, he stopped himself from tumbling onto the bed, pulling back with a grin as he stood up again. Her right hand stayed on his chest, planted warmly on the patch of skin between the v of his smoking jacket as she looked up, simply waiting for his next move.

He pulled her to her feet again, sitting on the edge of the bed as her positioned her between his knees. He leaned forward, his cheek resting on the side of her hip as he reached around to unfasten the garter clasp at the back of her right leg. Her hand automatically returned to his hair, caressing his head as he quietly moved around her standing body. He turned his attention to the clasp at the back of her left leg, smiling as he stated, "You should wear these to work."

"Why? So you can sneak up on me and pop the straps when I'm not looking?" Her tone was filled with amusement.

"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," he replied, though his wicked grin belied his words.

He softly kissed the strip of skin showing between her high-waisted bottoms and her balconette bra before returning to his task, unclasping the front snaps of her garter with such ease that Erin couldn't help but comment, "I think you've had some practice with these sorts of things."

"Maybe I've just been thinking about how to get you out of them all night," he returned easily, grinning as Erin let out a full laugh.

"Good recovery," she complimented, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "Very smooth."

The garter belt was tossed into a nearby chair. He took a moment to let his hands follow the swell of her hips before removing her bottoms, laying soft kisses on each hip bone. She stepped out of the clothing easily, moving aside so that he could send them flying to meet their belted companion. Then she reached down, untying the sash of his robe, pushing it off his body as her mouth connected to his shoulder, humming at the familiar warmth of his skin beneath her lips. It had been almost a year since the last time they'd been together, and yet, in comparison, it wasn't that long—after all, they usually went whole decades between touches—but gods, she never remembered missing him as intensely as she did right now. Even now, with his flesh beneath her mouth, with the heat of his body radiating against her skin, with the heady mixture of his cologne and her perfume and the dark scent of sex cloying to her nostrils, even with the comforting pressure of his hands on her body, she missed him. Each moment was too much and not enough, the hunger for every ounce of him clawed inside of her, crying for more, dying for more, more, more, with the same insistence that her lungs demanded oxygen.

Gently pushing him back onto the mattress, she crawled onto the bed beside him, her face hovering over his as she kissed him again. Gravity took control and her breasts were falling out of their flimsy cage and David was sliding beneath her, moving further down so that his mouth could connect to the dusky rose half-moon that was peeking from the edge of the black lace. He felt her arching into him, silently begging for more, and he gratefully obliged, using his teeth to jerk down the fabric, unleashing the wave of flesh from its lace dam. She gave a slight gasp at the sudden pull, biting back a grin at the feeling of his warm breath on her skin again. That wonderful, magical pair of lips closed over a taunt nipple and she felt the tension in her body ratchet up another notch. But in her current position, her arms were supporting her, which meant her hands weren't free to return his caresses, and that simply wouldn't do.

She pulled away, and David gave a small growl of displeasure, though he smiled when she pulled him into sitting position, her arms and legs wrapping around him and bringing him back to her again. Their mouths rejoined and he felt her breath softly exhale in relief as her hands aimlessly wandered the continent of his skin, content just to feel him, any part of him.

His hands snaked around her back, unclasping the bra, slowly pulling it down, watching as her breasts came back down to their natural level. Noting his gaze, Erin purred, "Would you like me to wear this to work, too?"

"Heavens, no," he grinned devilishly. "With the way you power-walk and the complete lack of control this thing has, you'd give yourself a black eye."

She threw her head back and laughed that deep, true laugh that he loved so much, and he took advantage of that fact that her throat was so easily accessible. His lips latched on to her skin as she hummed, "You are horrible."

Somehow, Erin Strauss made even a reprimand sound like a come-on.

He tossed aside the bra, turning back to her with another winsome smile, and she felt her heart skip a beat (after all that we've done, all that we've been through, that's all it takes—a simple smile and I am undone).

A smile might have been all it took to unravel the formidable Erin Strauss, but as usual, the equally persuasive David Rossi was going to surpass that mark by a long shot. By now, the only clothing left between either of them was Erin's stockings, and David decided that he was going to enjoy this last measure of his birthday present to the fullest. Those lovely legs were already wrapped around him, so he simply placed his hand under her left knee, pulling it closer to his mouth, which landed on her upper thigh, just above the top of her stocking. Erin leaned back on her elbows, unwrapping her legs to allow her lover to move more freely, her eyes watching his face with breathless anticipation. He gently rolled the fabric down another inch, placing another kiss on the newly-revealed skin, his hands traveling the length of her leg and caressing her calf.

He continued, each kiss sending a ripple of heat through her body. All too soon, the stocking was removed, flying to meet the rest of the outfit in the chair across the room. He turned his attention to her right leg, repeating the exercise, and her poor left leg (poor thing, to be so sweetly loved and then so cruelly abandoned, so cold from the lack of his touch) found itself instinctively wrapping around his body, so desperately needing just to touch his skin as her hands lost themselves in his dark locks again.

He sat up again, tossing the final piece of clothing and turning back to the woman now splayed across his bed, with her flushed skin and her glowing eyes and her smile that left no doubt that she truly adored him.

"It does feel different," she stated quietly, answering the question he'd asked earlier. "It feels happier than all the times before."

"That's because we are happier, aren't we?" His voice was equally low, equally soft.

Her smile was bright enough to light up an entire city. "Yes, we are."

He moved back to her, taking a moment to kiss the tip of her nose before slowly entering her, feeling her walls contract around him as she gave a light sigh of relief. Her legs wrapped around him as they found their familiar rhythm, her hands moved by their own volition, caressing his face, tracing the taunt line of his shoulders. David's head dipped forward, and Erin's rose to meet it, their mouths reconnecting as she let her tongue say all the things that her lips had never been good at saying (I love you, I need you, I want you...you, you, you, always and only you).

The thrust of his hips became quicker, and Erin knew he wasn't far from the edge. The tension that had been pooling between her own hips was heavier now, but she still felt too far away from the delicious tingling that always signaled the beginning of her own end. Her hands returned to his face as she softly moaned, "David..."

"I'm not gonna leave you, bella," he assured her, shifting position slightly so that he could use one hand to rub the pulsing bundle of nerves at her apex. The simple pressure on her clit made Erin jump slightly, her body immediately responding to the stimulation as fire rushed through her veins and the air left her lungs.

Oh, yes, there is a reason your touch can ignite my body, a reason I crave you, there is a reason, there is, there is...even the voice inside Erin's head devolved into incoherent babble as another tremor rippled through her body, a herald of the greater shockwave to come. David was trying to hold back, trying to wait for her and she felt another rush of love for this concern, for his tenderness, for all the little ways that he put her before himself, which only intensified the heat radiating from every pore of her being.

"Let go," she urged him, and even those two words seemed to be a challenge (they required breath and coherent thought and control and all the things she didn't have right now). He ground into her even harder, giving a slight gasp at his release, and she felt her own orgasm crashing down around her.

He shifted, but her legs wrapped around him again, her arms pulling his body back to her chest.

"Stay," she whispered, her breath still ragged and uneven. "Stay like this, just a little bit longer."

He obeyed, slowly sinking his body onto hers, trying keep as much weight off her as possible, and she gave a light chuckle at his tenderness, simply pulling him closer and silently assuring him that he wasn't going to crush her.

The moment and the golden headiness couldn't last forever, Erin knew that. But as she lay there, firmly tethered to earth by the solid weight of her lover, her hands lazily tracing incoherent patterns on his back, she felt there was no harm in relishing the moment for as long as she could.

David was not in bed when she awoke the next morning. She vaguely remembered him leaving soft kisses on her skin earlier (ten minutes ago, two hours ago?), and she thought he might have actually said something to her, but she'd been too groggy to really comprehend his words.

Erin stretched her muscles, giving a small smile at the glimmering feeling that still seeped through her body, making her feel happy and relaxed. She looked over at the chair in the corner of the room, which still held their clothes from the night before—they looked good together, his silk smoking jacket and her lacy lingerie, they complimented each other, crumpled together like some burlesque still-life painting. They belonged.

She shook her head with a wry smile—Erin Strauss, waxing poetic over a pair of garters. This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.

She sat up, giving a slight frown as she realized that the bag she'd packed (because of course, she'd been prepared for this) was still downstairs in the foyer. She moved to the window—one glance informed her that David's security detail was still there, and she really didn't fancy traipsing through his house without any clothes on. David's house had so many huge, open windows (something she didn't think about last night, she realized with a sudden flush), and she knew that with her luck, the agents outside would recognize her and have some very interesting tales to take to work tomorrow.

With a sigh, she moved back to the closet. There was no way she was putting that dress back on, not this early in the morning. She shifted back to his dresser, opening drawers until she found something suitable—a worn t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. The clothes reminded her of him, with their scent and their softness, and she smiled softly as she padded to the landing and down the stairs.

He was in the kitchen, and once again, there were ordered rows of ingredients and cooking utensils. She took a moment to quietly observe him, watching him move around the room with the easy grace that always reminded her of a jungle cat.

He stopped when he saw her, smiling at the sight of his clothes on her frame. "Morning, bella."

She returned his smile before motioning around the kitchen, "I thought you didn't eat breakfast."

"I don't," he replied, walking over to kiss the tip of her nose. "But Harter and Smith do."

She knew that those were the names of the agents sitting outside in the black suburban, and she couldn't help but arch her brow, "So, after all that fuss over having a security detail, you actually get up every morning and cook them breakfast?"

She was smirking at him now, teasing him, but she was wearing his clothes and he could still smell his cologne in her hair (because she'd spent the night with her head on his chest, happily sewn to his side), and really, David couldn't even pretend to be upset.

"I do," he admitted lightly, pulling her close. "It's my way of thanking them—it's the least I can do."

"You're very sweet," she cooed, and she meant it. She rolled forward on the balls of her feet, her mouth melding to his with a sleepy gentleness. Then she pulled away, moving past him, "I left my bag in the hall."

"You brought a bag?"

"I did."

He gave a low chuckle as he moved back to the stove. Really, it didn't surprise him (Erin always was a planner), but it was still a sweetly-strange notion, knowing that she'd actually meant to end up in his arms last night, that it had been much more of a conscious choice than all the times before.

She came back into the kitchen, setting her bag down as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him from behind.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced, and she felt the lightest wave of tension ripple through his body. She understood its origin—that was always the turning point, all the times before, because once she got out of the shower, they would have the talk and they would start the awkward untangling of their emotions and affections, the slow distancing from one another, the slightly painful process of forgetting all the things that couldn't ever really be forgotten (that shouldn't, that wouldn't, not really, not ever). His reaction actually caused a pang in her chest, and she felt the need to offer some kind of reassurance that things had truly changed.

"Do you remember why I told Ruthie that I couldn't meet him for breakfast?" She asked softly.

"I do," his voice suddenly filled with a knowing warmth.

"Conference starts in ten minutes," she whispered, taking a moment to lightly graze her teeth on the curve of his shoulder blade, just enough to be felt through the fabric of his t-shirt. "With or without you, Agent Rossi."

She gave his ass a quick squeeze before scooping up her bag again, throwing one last look over her shoulder as she left the kitchen. David felt the familiar stirring deep within and he was fairly certain that breakfast was going to be ready in record time.

Oh, how quickly things devolve, Erin mused. She was leaning forward, bracing her hands against the foggy bathroom mirror as her legs were splayed as widely as possible, allowing David better access. In the hazy reflection, she could see his form moving behind her, could feel him pushing inside of her, could feel the weight of his hands on her hips, could hear the sound of their still-wet bodies connecting, echoing through the tile bathroom with their heavy breaths. She transferred the weight to her right hand, allowing her left hand to swipe at the mirror's surface, creating a clear space where she could actually see his face. He noticed the action, looking up to meet her gaze through the mirror. He gave a knowing grin and she felt another thrill pass through her entire body.

This orgasm wasn't one of fire and blood and crashing waves—it was a soft, tumbling thing, quick and surprising, gently rolling through her body with a sweetness that was both novel and welcome. David came soon after, and she watched the emotions playing across the face she loved so much, as if seeing it for the first time. He leaned forward, kissing the ridge of her spine, following it back up to her neck as she leaned back, welcoming the feel of his chest on her back. Her hair was still pulled up in a messy bun atop her head, allowing him unfettered access to her neck, which he gladly took, his hands moving around to cup her breasts. Her own hands went up, returning to their favorite nesting place in his dark locks, lovingly caressing the head bent over her shoulder as she arched her back, silently offering her flesh to his mouth.

Erin glanced at the mirror, and her heart caught in her throat at the sight staring back at her. She'd always enjoyed sex, and sometimes she even felt sexy, but this...this burning vignette in front of her surpassed simple sexiness, with the dark hue of his skin melding into her lighter one, the flushed bodies, still dripping from the shower, the glowing eyes and the red mouths and the arms moving like flesh-colored snakes, twining and untwining around each other. This was so much more than that...this was erotic.

David looked up, and apparently he saw the exact same image, because he stopped for a moment, his dark eyes taking in every detail before he simply said, "We look good together, bella."

She hummed in agreement, watching her mirror-reflection self lift a hand to that beautiful face again, caressing the curve in his jaw as she softly replied, "We do, my darling."

Vienna, Virginia.

David felt a slight wave of sadness as he pulled into Erin's driveway. Reality was officially kicking back in—he'd held her hand as he drove back into the city, the gentle pressure of her fingers wrapped around his had kept him in a little bubble of domestic happiness. It was funny, how monumental the little things were between them (the little intimacies that he'd taken for granted in other relationships, the mundane things that had seemed insignificant), simply because they were things which had been denied for so long. The simple pleasure of holding hands became holy communion, a kiss became breath itself, an affectionate pat or a soft smile became a victory over years of pretending nothing existed between them.

This brave new world was made even more beautiful, even more exhilarating by the fact that Erin seemed equally enthralled by these small gestures—they were like two small children, thrilled by the discovery of some new hiding place, some new treasure trove filled with promise and adventure, and the greatest excitement came simply from seeing the other person's joy and wonder at it all.

He heard her give a light sigh as he put the car in park, and he smiled at the knowledge that she wasn't ready to leave him, either.

"I miss you already," she said softly, pulling his hand to her mouth, tenderly kissing the top of his knuckles.

"Me, too, bella," he admitted, leaning across the center console. She met him halfway, their lips melding, their tongues reconnecting as their hands blindly reached forward, pulling them into each other. This, too, was something new—the tenderness behind their kisses, the way they seemed to heal, instead of ripping things apart (the way their embraces used to do, when it was less about caring and more about burning down the world around them), the things they let those soft embraces say, the things they let them mend.

She pulled back, her grey-green eyes searching his brown ones as she spoke, "You'll call me? If...if you want to, if you need anything?"

Her hesitancy was endearing, but it was the compassion in her voice that melted David's heart. "I will."

She smiled, giving a small, curt nod of approval.

"Tell Ruthie thanks again for showing up last night." He gave her hand one last squeeze, another silent thank-you for the sweet surprise she'd given him. She nodded again, her smile growing as she got out of the car. He got out as well, opening the trunk and grabbing her bag, which she took as she leaned forward for one last kiss.

"I love you. Be safe."

She turned and headed inside, completely oblivious to the fact that she was leaving a wonderstruck Rossi in her wake.

David stared after her, his pulse quickening at the sudden realization. She'd said it. Those three fateful words, just so easily and effortlessly that they came without thinking, which meant they must be true. The words that had echoed quietly in his own heart for so long now, the ones that he thought he'd never get to say, the ones that he thought he'd never hear from her (though he would always suspect that they were there, just below the surface of all her interactions with him). And yet, here they were, offered so easily, without hesitation or fear or regret.

Erin Strauss loved him.

He got back in the car, his heart swelling with the thought that those three little words had changed everything for him. He still had to go see Tommy Yates, and that would always be something he dreaded, the dark mark that turned his birthday into something sadder, but Erin had given him a gift that would ensure that each year would now have a bright spot amongst the macabre—this would forever be the day that she first said I love you.

He gave a small chuckle as his car pulled out onto the street. Erin Strauss really did know how to give one hell of a birthday celebration.