Monday.
She comes to me late in the afternoon, the heavy rays of the sun following her from between the curtains. I greet her with a smile and beckon her to join me on the sofa, lazy and languid and in love.
She comes to me with a smile on her face that promises pleasure and joy and secrets between us.
She comes to me with the sun in her eyes, the wind in her hair, the songs of the birds in her ears and the warmth of the day on her skin.
She comes to me with thousands of kisses, longing and arms that wrap around my shoulders.
She comes to me and lays on top of me, her warm, living body pressing against mine. We melt together, skin touching skin, clothes between us irrelevant as our heartbeats become one.
She comes to me with whispers as I caress her sun-kissed skin, inhaling its warm scent.
She comes.
Dear heart, I’m in love.
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