Sorry for the couple of days wait for this - it's been a busy week! A lot of this was from my memory of places in Lake Garda so apologies if you spot any errors!

And for the last scene I was listening to a bit of Janet Jackson to set the scene ;-) It might be a nice accompaniment to the moment: watch?v=xlYP_WcS6xg

Chapter 24

Italy – Day 5

Charles woke disorientated. His head felt thick and the sunlight coming through the gap in the curtains pricked his eyeballs like hot pokers. He pulled the sheet up over his face, turned and wobbled on the edge of the bed – hovering precariously, just for a moment – before tumbling forward and smashing into the floor.

"What the hell?" Elsie exclaimed, rushing through from the bathroom, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. "What are you doing?" She mumbled, standing over his naked body.

"I think I'm dead." He groaned, trying to lift his arm and failing.

"Just a sec," she returned to the bathroom, quickly rinsed her mouth then went back to help him. "What on earth were you doing?" She asked, sliding her hand under his arm and gripping his bicep.

"Turning over," he huffed, "forgot where I was."

"You've been throwing yourself about the bed all night." She complained, lifting him into a sitting position. "There, better?"

"My head feels like a brick."

She placed her hand on his forehead, "I told you not to drink that bloody cocktail they brought out for you, it was lethal, and you had to have three."

"Thought I could take my drink."

"You sip a sherry in the evenings dear, you're hardly onto the hard stuff." She tentatively touched his arm. "I'm afraid you're going to have a bruise here. I'll get you some cream. You going back to bed?"

He nodded, leaning against her to push himself up. "Oohhh I'm dying…" He whined.

She couldn't help but chuckle as she helped him lay back down. "I'll go get you some tablets – you want to try and eat something?"

"Toast."

"I can manage that. We have about three hours before we're getting picked up for this trip."

"Lord above, the thought of coach travel."

She rolled her eyes, "Like a child."

When he'd swallowed two aspirin, drunk two glasses of water and a glass of juice the haze started to clear.

"Here you go," she said, bringing in his tea and toast.

"Where's yours?"

"In the kitchen. I was going to sit outside and check my emails."

"Come sit here with me, don't leave me on my own when I'm injured." He pouted.

"Honestly, you got drunk and fell out of bed and I'm playing bloody nursemaid…" she mumbled as she returned to the kitchen.

"I wouldn't mind if you want to dress up as one though."

"As what?" She asked, coming to sit beside him on the bed.

"A nurse." he said, chewing a mouthful of toast. "You know, one of those little white dresses…"

"I don't actually think nurses wear things like that. More like starchy dresses and heavy clogs."

"I'd prefer the other type when you to do it."

"Well, I'm not doing it so you don't have to worry."

"Mean. If I'm ill you should grant my requests."

"Well you're not ill, you're obviously feeling much better the way you've wolfed down that toast."

"Can I have some more please miss?" He said, holding his plate towards her.

"If you go have a shower I'll get you more toast."

He lifted his arm around her and groaned, "Ow. That's still tight."

"You're too old to be throwing yourself out of bed." She kissed his arm. "Once you've had your shower I'll rub some cream into it."

"You do take care of me."

"I know." She reached for her mug of tea. "So, this nurse thing, is this a fantasy for the list?"

He chuckled, "Not really, just popped into my head. What did we do last night when we got home?"

"Nothing!" She laughed. "You were almost comatose, you collapsed on the bed and were snoring away within two minutes. I had to undress you and you kept trying to kick me."

"I apologise," he cleared his throat, "how embarrassing."

"Well, you can't be perfect all the time."

"I guess not. You know we only have one thing on the fantasy list – your sunflowers."

"Yes…"

"We should try to at least fulfil it."

"And what if the reality doesn't live up to the fantasy…?"

"I'll make sure it does." He said, waggling his eyebrows at her

"Promises. Promises." She sighed as she got up. "I'm going to get dressed, go have your shower, I don't want to miss this bus. I'm looking forward to this little day trip."

"Verona is beautiful."

"I can't wait to see the arena. And Juliet's balcony. And I'm going to have pistachio ice-cream and sit in the sunshine to enjoy it."

"Nice plan, mind if I join you?"

"You can tag along." She shrugged.

She'd just pulled on her dress and was clipping her hair up when she heard her phone ringing. It had been days since she'd used it and it took her a while to pinpoint its location (hidden in the bottom of her handbag in the closet).

"Hello," she said, the line weak, no reply. "Hello?" She said a little louder and Charles poked his head around the bathroom door.

"What's wrong?" He mouthed and she shrugged.

"Can you hear me?" She asked, moving to the patio doors and going outside. "Oh, I can hear you now. Yes, hello. It's beautiful out here thank you. Yes, very hot."

Charles sat on the bed pulling on his socks and listening to her side of the conversation. From her tone it didn't sound good news and he prayed it wasn't either Anna (burning down his shop!) or an illness with Beryl or her work colleagues or… he daren't even consider the possibility it could be Joe.

Breathing deeply she returned to the bedroom, Charles was dressed and putting on cologne.

"Well?" He asked.

"I'll tell you as we walk, otherwise we'll be late for the bus."

She collected her bag, sunglasses and a light shawl ad they set off down the hill towards the square.

"It was the estate agent calling about my last… our last offer."

"It doesn't sound good news." He said, digging his hands into his pockets.

She reached over and pulled his left hand out, closing her fingers around his.

"Don't get sulking."

"I knew we should have stayed home."

"It wouldn't make any difference, they can still call us here. What he said was that this lady who's selling it, the one whose sister the house belonged to who died…"

"Yes, yes."

"Don't get impatient." She squeezed his fingers. "Well, she's willing to sell to us – thinks we sound decent, we aren't planning to knock it down and use the land to put up new builds."

"Heaven forbid!" He said, scandalised by the very suggestion.

"But, she wants the asking price, she said she's already reduced it for a quick sale and it's worth every penny."

"And she's right and we'll pay it."

"No we won't." She slowed her steps as they neared the group of people waiting for the bus, fellow tourists.

"Why not?"

"Because it's too much."

"We can afford it."

"No, you can, I can't – there's a difference."

"Oh, that's silly." He said waving his hand.

"We can't talk about it now, we'll talk about it later when we're sat somewhere quiet."

"I really want that house Elsie." He said sternly. She didn't reply, just let go of his hand as she climbed the steps up onto the coach.

It took over an hour to reach their destination and she was glad Charles snoozed on the journey, hoping it would improve both his headache and moody temperament.

She watched the passing views, settled back against his arm and enjoyed the closeness, the fact she had somebody there whom she could lean against. He'd been on a high ever since she'd said those three little words – finally – and if she were honest with herself she'd been the same. There was something liberating about saying it and she felt lighter than she had in years. Their activities the following day – a walk to the small town, planning and bookings for trips they wanted to take – had all been slotted in around going back and forth to their bed.

She smiled bashfully to herself at that; who knew that at their age they could still enjoy such an active sex life! But if anything her finally opening up to him had brought them closer and there was something almost primal in their need to physically express those deep-rooted feelings.

Last night they'd eaten rich food at an outdoor restaurant and danced in the warm night, a local band providing the entertainment, and the square had been bustling, locals and tourists alike enjoying the alfresco dancing.

Then Charles had been tempted to try the local cocktail – she'd warned him not to, he took no notice and within an hour was barely coherent. She was glad she'd stuck to the wine otherwise god knows where they'd be now! A few of hundred euros worse off on a wasted trip to Verona and unused tickets for the Arena.

Charles moaned by her ear, his arm sliding around her waist as he snuggled against her; she felt his fingers flex against her stomach and she placed her hand atop of his, tapping his fingers gently. She didn't want him getting carried away on the coach.

"Honey," she whispered, nudging him slightly with her shoulder. "We're almost there."

He huffed by her ear, slowly shaking himself awake.

"We'll get tea when we get there," she said, handing him a bottle of water from her bag. "Then go wandering. I'd like to see the Arena by daylight… do you mind, my making plans?"

He shook his head, he'd visited many times over the years and he was happy just to let her enjoy it.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked as the coach pulled into a space.

"Much, head's clearing."

"Good."

"Terrible taste in my mouth though," he said, twisting his tongue against his cheek, it felt thick and heavy.

"Here." She said, handing him a packet of mints.

"You're so much the organised teacher it's scary."

"Just be glad I'm not giving you a worksheet to complete as we wander around."

They climbed the steps up to the top of the Arena, it was hot and Charles had his jacket draped over his arm and was wiping his brow by the time he met her at the top.

"Thank goodness for that breeze," he said as he leant back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Give me your jacket," she said, taking it from him and hanging it over her bag. She took a bottle of water out and placed it into his hand. "And take a drink."

"I'm not always great in the heat."

"And me Scottish." She giggled, glancing around her, doing a full 360 as she took in the sights of the town. "What a magnificent view. Oh Verona!" She sang and he rolled his eyes.

"Not great with heights neither honey."

She hooked her arm through his, "That's my word, you use your own! And you managed the helicopter ride in Dubai, you were very brave."

"I was trying to impress you." He shrugged.

She chuckled, "It worked… Hey, does that mean I don't need impressing anymore?"

"I've got you now." He teased, stroking his fingertip down her bare arm.

She stood directly in front of him, slipping his sunglasses off, "Have you indeed?" She leant close in, as if to kiss him, and he felt his stomach jolt and his skin prickle in anticipation. But she stopped just short of his lips. "If you take a look around I'll reward you and buy lunch."

"I'd rather get a kiss." He said lowly.

"Oh, I'm sure you would…"

She slid his glasses back on and walked off along the edge, planning on doing the full circuit of the arena from the very top. She glanced back over her shoulder a couple of metres later and watched as he took a good look around the city before following her.

"I'm really looking forward to tonight," he said, enthused as he watched the stage preparations taking place. "It's years since I've seen Don Giovanni, and never anywhere as wonderful as a real arena like this, I hope the weather holds."

"I'm sure it will. I've never seen it," she said, pausing as she waited for young children to run past them. "And I have no idea what to expect. I know its Mozart and based on Don Juan." She set off walking again.

"First performed in 1787," Charles said behind her and she listened carefully as they walked, impressed by his knowledge. They were about three-quarters of the way around the top and she was beginning to feel the heat and long for shade and a cold drink. "It blends comedy, melodrama and supernatural elements." He added.

She paused, glanced back at him and he chuckled as she noted the guidebook in his hand. She swiped at him with her shawl, "Oh, I thought you were being very clever!"

"I'm a very clever reader."

"Come on, I need a limonata!"

In the early afternoon Elsie got her ice cream – a scoop of pistachio, a scoop of vanilla, in a cup – and they found a bench in the piazza to sit and eat. Charles was soon regretting choosing a cone as his chocolate concoction was already dripping down his hand before they'd even sat down. He leant forward, letting the ice-cream drip to the floor if need be.

"This is the best ice cream I've ever had in my life." She said. "It's delicious."

"It is good."

"It's better than sex!"

"I wouldn't go quite that far," he chuckled, glancing up at her. "Can we talk about the house now?"

She sighed, "That means we talk about money and that isn't very romantic and we're in Verona…."

"Don't sing it again! And if we have to talk about money then let's just do it. The bottom line is I can afford it, let me buy it."

"No."

"Why not?" He turned on the bench, licking the remaining ice cream from his fingers.

"Because if – or rather when – we buy somewhere to live I want to do it together, fifty-fifty. And I can't afford it, which is slightly embarrassing in this situation but also me being honest. With what I have from my house sale years ago and my wage I can stretch to one-third of that price."

"Then let me pay the other two-thirds."

She shook her head, "No Charles. It isn't fair. You don't sell two houses in Europe to buy this place in Yorkshire for me. I can't accept it."

"But I want to." He reached to touch her hand. "I want to live there with you, take care of you." He feels her fingers flex beneath his as she breathes deeply and looks away. "And you see that as a negative!"

"No, no I don't." she looked back at him, turning her hand over so her palm touched his. "I know you mean it in a kind, sweet way. But I just don't want us to go into this feeling like I owe something…"

He shook his head, frustrated.

"Listen… I've never had my independence until I lived in that apartment. I've never made my own decisions about my money. And now I can, and I would happily spend all my savings purchasing this place for us but I just don't see how it's fair for you to pay more."

"I get that. And I don't want to try and control you or use this as some bargaining tool. But Elsie," he leant closer to her, so he could see her eyes through her sunglasses, "Els, I did nothing to get these properties, I inherited them, I didn't work for them, I don't manage them – I just get paid. Or rather I did. And now they've sold and I have that money because of how canny my mother was and this is what I want to do with it."

"I really don't want to think about begging for a mortgage at my age, I want to start thinking about winding down over the next ten years."

"I don't want you to take a loan because you don't need to. Think of it this way – you're the one of us who earns a good, steady wage every month. It's that which would be paying our bills – food, heating, water, electricity, bloody council tax! Because what I get can be erratic, I have to plan ahead. I want to buy this place outright and spend the rest of our lives living in it – then leave it for Anna when we're gone."

She slid her glasses off, her mouth open, "You'd really want to do that?"

"Of course," it seems so simple to him. "I love you both."

"Oh… Charles, just when I think you can't surprise me anymore." She leant against him, holding his hand, "How a man who has such great capacity to love lived alone for most of his life I have no idea."

He shrugged, "Didn't have anybody to love."

Her eyes crinkled, "Oh baby," and she pulled him into a hug, stroking his back.

"You promised you'd never call me that." He said formally by her ear and she laughed.

"I did didn't I." Pulling back slightly she kissed him. "I'll think about it. We can discuss it more tonight."

"That's fair enough." He said gently.

She had such an overwhelming rush of emotion for him, the slightly shy yet hopeful expression, the simplicity with which he saw things. There wasn't an ounce of selfishness or malice in him.

Smiling she kissed him again, stroking his face, "And you have me to love you now."

He returned the smile, his hand on her hip, thumb stroking in small circles. "Well, that's all I ever wanted."

They spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering around Via Mazzini, dipping in and out of shops – Elsie bought a scarf for Beryl, a new purse for Anna and debated over a dress for herself.

Charles left her mulling over this very thing as she went back into the changing rooms for the third time and he disappeared outside. They'd passed a shop earlier and something in the window had caught his eye.

The idea of purchasing it and grown throughout the afternoon until the point where he'd convinced himself he simply had to have it. He'd give it to her over dinner, a romantic moment with candlelight and wine and they were in Verona – how much more romantic could it possibly get?

They ate at an outdoor restaurant – Charles avoided alcohol – and shared tiramisu for dessert.

"You know someone once told me that tiramisu was created especially by lusty Italian women," she whispered, the pair of them leaning towards the middle of their table, their spoons meeting in the bowl.

"Oh? For what purpose?"

"Coffee is an aphrodisiac…"

"Yes….?" He licked the cream from his spoon.

"And so it keeps things 'up' if you get my meaning."

He chuckled, holding her gaze, her twinkling eyes and slightly naughty expression.

"I think I understand." He smiled.

"Do you think we have time for coffee before the opera?" She asked, putting down her spoon.

"I don't think I need any but…" he glanced at his watch. "We have time."

He ordered cappuccinos and they giggled over the strength, like teenagers on discovering an unsavoury word in the dictionary.

"So, I got something for you." He said, reaching for his jacket that hung on his chair and taking a small blue box from the inside pocket.

She gasped internally, bit her tongue as she tried to swallow her coffee quickly, unsure of how to act, momentarily unsteady, her heart suddenly alive and full – reminding her of its presence as it thudded in her ear. Was he really going to…?

"I saw it earlier and I thought it pretty and that you'd… you'd like it…anything wrong, you've gone very pale?"

"No, no nothing. Too much caffeine." She reached for her glass of water.

"So, here you go." He slid the box across the table to her – the familiar shade of blue, the silver 'Tiffany' lettering upon the lid.

"Charles. This will be expensive, we didn't even go into that store because of that very reason."

"I know but I want you to have it."

She sighed, put down her napkin and gently lifted the lid of the box – inside, a beautiful silver heart on a chain, and beside it a rose-gold key.

"See, I thought that it could symbolise you and I buying a house together." He said hopefully, buying jewellery for a woman was always an unknown.

She found she could breathe again, "Yes. I suppose it could." She gently took it from the box and lifted it around her neck. "Or giving you the key to my heart." She smiled smugly, "If we want to be a cliché."

"I have no issue at all with that."

She squeezed his hand across the table, "Thank you, it's beautiful, and I only bought you ice cream."

"But it was good ice cream."

"True. I do think we should get a ball for the pool though, they had them in the shops we walk past on our way home."

"How old are we?"

"As old as we feel! We can play volleyball and get competitive. Good exercise too."

"I'd rather exercise in other ways."

"Mr Carson, indeed." But she was smiling and rubbing his fingers with hers. "Shall we get the bill?"

Outside the night was cooling and the summer breeze whipped her skirt around her legs. She pulled him close outside the door and kissed him soundly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome darling." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "Ready to be entertained."

"Oh very much so, you have the tickets?"

"I do, centre aisle. In front of the stage."

"Let's go then." She hooked her arm through his, felt his hand resting on her back and let him lead her back down the winding streets to the arena.

The swell of the music and the overwhelming atmosphere remained with Charles long after they'd exited and found their seats on the couch. He found himself replaying the entire thing in his mind and knew if they hadn't been in company he'd have been singing out-loud.

It was late and quite dark and the journey seemed somewhat muted with no scenery to guide them. Elsie had the window seat but within ten minutes of the journey had turned from it and burrowed against his arm, finding a comfy spot and closing her eyes.

He thought she smelt of summer nights; air still warm from the sun, laughter and spritzers and strawberries and cream. He kissed her head, his arm stretched around her back, the tiny key dangling forward and swinging upon the chain with the motion of the coach.

He was quite determined they'd have that house. And tonight he'd convince her – though he wasn't quite sure how yet, but he thought earlier that she'd almost said yes, certainly she'd been moving towards it.

When they'd been dropped off and walked back to the villa – Elsie barefoot after a very long day in sandals – it was way past midnight and their eyes were heavy.

"I'll make tea," he said, "whilst you go wash your feet, you can't get into bed with them like that!"

"Yes sir," she yawned. "Unless I sleep on the couch."

"Don't even think it."

He was singing when she came back from the bathroom, she'd changed into her nightwear and he looked her up and down appreciatively as the silk of her gown swung around her legs.

"I recognise that," he said, bringing their tea into the lounge.

"Not been out of the drawer since Dubai. I found it when I packed to move to your flat."

He went to sit on the couch, "Don't put it away again… what are you doing?"

She had a pad of paper in her hand and was sitting at the dining table, "You want to talk about the house, get things sorted, otherwise I know you won't sleep right and I can't do with another restless night of you tossing and turning. So, let's sit down and thrash this out." She said seriously, sliding her glasses on and unscrewing the lid from her pen. "Come on, have a seat."

"I feel like I'm in a court of law." He said grimly, pulling the chair out opposite her. "And I'm still in the throes of joy for that outstanding performance."

"I did enjoy it. The entire atmosphere of that place is incredible, and the acoustics."

"I know… we should go see something else whilst we're here." His voice rose in excitement.

"We can't go splashing our money about if you want this house. And if we're going to do this we do it fairly and sensibly. We can't just give our bodies and our hearts to each other, we have to do all the boring stuff too."

He grinned, tapping his hands against his tea cup and she looked up from the list she was drawing up.

"What?"

"You. Giving me your body and your heart."

"Oh, you know what I mean. If this is a relationship then I'm afraid we have to do all of the practical, dull elements."

"I don't mind that, makes it real."

"Hmm, so here is the price." She wrote it at the top of the page and beneath made two lists – Charles, Elsie. "And I think I can sensibly put in this much." She put the number at the top of her column. "And you…" she slid the paper across to him and he scribbled his number.

"Why aren't you a Doctor with handwriting like that?" She tutted, though staring hard at the number he'd put down. "Charles, that's an awful lot."

"It's what I can afford."

She bit her lip, "Okay, well we both know if we buy it we'll want to do things. Kitchen, bathrooms etc. So how much do you think for all that?"

"The electrics need doing throughout, and I'd be happier if we got all the water pipes done at the same time and damp proofing before we even think of putting in a kitchen or decorating."

"See, you can be sensible about it. So how much?"

"Well, based on what the little shop cost me I reckon…" he scribbled another number beneath his last one. "I've gone slightly higher because these things always spiral."

She bit her lip again; "This could be our last holiday for the next twenty years!"

"You forget we can stay here for free, just need flights. And that phrase leads me to believe you're coming round..." His voice rises at the end of his sentence, hopeful.

She ignores the comment and writes her monthly wage down, "I think we need a monthly budget, I think – based on what we've spent so far since living together – our food bill might be," she wrote down a minus number beneath her wage, "the basic bills, God knows what the council tax will be on a property like that so we'll go for highest. Total?"

He said the number immediately.

"So good at maths," she smiled. "Right, there we are so that's what I'll have left every month if I handle bills."

"And would that be acceptable?"

"I think so yes, it's certainly doable."

"So, with that in mind," he said slowly, "are we moving towards a deal?"

She glanced over the top of her glasses at him, "You're absolutely positively sure that this is what you want to do? Because it's a huge commitment Charles…perhaps the biggest one we can make."

He smiled slightly, "I can think of a slightly bigger one but yes, this is close."

She opened her mouth to speak but found her words stuck, the 'm' word hanging unsaid.

He held his hand out, "So, do we have a deal?"

"That's very formal." She said lowly, taking her glasses off.

"That's how you wanted to approach it, no heart in this I promise. Perhaps a little bit of body." He shrugged, making her smile.

She held her hand out to take his across the table, "Alright Me Carson, you have a deal."

"Very happy to hear it Ms Hughes."

They shook on it, then he turned her hand over and kissed the back of it. "I suspect there was a little bit of heart in that…" He says gently.

At that she smiles, getting up and going around the table to pull him into a hug. "Oh they broke the mould when they made you Charles Carson."

Smiling, caught between wanting to laugh, he kisses her cheek. "Thank you."

"I think I should thank you. Though your point about the bills did swing it."

"Not the loving you bit."

"Maybe that too." She kissed him. "I'll call the agent when we get up tomorrow."

He pulled her to sit in his lap. "Set the alarm so you can do it first thing."

"I will not, I'm on holiday, I have enough of that during term time." She tapped her index finger against his pout. "You are a worrier at times. I'll email him tonight, then he can pick that up first thing and I'll call after breakfast to check. Is that acceptable milord?"

"Yes I think so. Acceptable enough."

"I best get on with it then, if I'm ever going to get to bed."

It was warm in the bedroom, almost too warm. They had the window open and the breeze from outside lifted the curtain leaving it flying free.

It was after four and they'd only slept for a couple of hours, Elsie had woken feeling hot and stuffy and had gone to the bathroom for water.

"Els, could you bring me some too?" He said, cracking open an eye upon hearing her bare feet pad across the tiled floor.

She did as he asked and they sat side-by-side squashed against pillows drinking in the dark.

"We're buying a house." He finally said, his voice a whisper.

"We are."

He turned his head slightly to see her profile, "You happy?"

She smiled, "Very much so. You?"

"A little."

She swiped at his arm, "I could tip this down your chest you know."

"Then lick it off?"

"Hmm…." She glanced to the clock, "You know, you didn't make love to me yesterday Mr Carson."

"Oh I am very sorry." He put his empty glass down. "Please allow me to make up for that."

She was giggling as they wiggled down the bed together, Charles leaning over to kiss her and sliding his hand along the delicious, silk-covered curves of her body.

"I've had such a wonderful day," she said against his mouth, "such a wonderful time so far."

"It couldn't be much better, you love me for a start."

Smiling she slid her hands up and around his neck, her nails tickling along his hairline, and lifted her mouth to his – their lips teasing and tasting the familiar but always so new, so intoxicating.

His eager hands soon slid her nightdress up and over her body and dropped it to the floor as they turned, lying naked on top of the sheets, facing each other, their bodies wrapped together as they kissed. He adored the sounds that came from the back of her throat when they kissed, soft gently murmurs, deepening and strengthening as she became more aroused. It pleased him no end to know she wanted him as much as he did her.

Her hands slid down between their bodies, stroking over his chest, tugging on the greying hair there. She could feel his growing erection pressing against her leg and the intense joy of being with him seeming to draw together and encapsulate between her thighs.

She rolled onto her back, looking up at him as he leant on his elbow to look down her body; he remembered many, many years ago hoping for this – more than the physical, more than just the release of sex, the need to find someone with whom he could share everything. He'd never even come close. And now it was all here in front of him – overwleming, intoxicating, fulfilling.

He bent to kiss her chest, sliding his tongue down her neck, to his favourite spot, the sweetest, softest spot at the base of her throat where the skin was like fragile silk. She always breathed that little bit harder when he touched her there.

Then lower, over her breasts, his fingers tracing over the freckles he knew adorned her skin, out in force thanks to the sun's caress.

She twisted beneath him, pushing herself up until he moved and she could turn over, her back to him, her body pressed into the mattress. He took her lead, nuzzling her neck for a moment, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her.

"I love you," he whispered, against her skin, then massaging across her shoulders, kissing down her spine, hands on her hips as he did so, then squeezing her bottom until she giggled into the pillow.

His body longed for hers. Desperate to love her again, he moved on top of her, careful of his weight, felt her lift herself up and twist her head to meet his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

Her legs parted and he slipped between her thighs, pressing so close to her he could feel the heat of her driving him mad with desire.

She wiggled against him, moaning, breathing his name, shifting beneath him. He placed his hands flat on the bed, holding himself up as she turned beneath him, her hands quickly moving to grasp his head and pull him to her, kissing him fiercely.

"Elsie," he sighed; her name akin to heaven for him, "I can't get enough of you." She was raising her legs around him, drawing him into her until they both groaned deeply at the connection. So perfect now, how they fit together, how easily they fell into this deep, sensual rhythm.

As the morning sun began to turn the sky from inky blue to orangey clouds they were cuddled together; her back to his chest, his arms tight around her, still kissing any part of her he could – the back of her head, her neck, her shoulder – and her hands drew nonsensical patterns upon his forearm as he held her.

"I love you," she said into the coming morning and he smiled, any lingering doubts erased.

I had to get a key in somewhere right! Hope you're still enjoying their journey - physical, emotional, metaphorical... please let me know what you think, your reviews and reblogs and messages are forever my daily joy! x