Sometimes we’d have picnics, go on walks, talk, play cards. The cabin was where we’d discuss my Aunt Louisa and my feelings on the subject. I’d lost it a few times, cried tears I didn’t know I needed to cry. And he’d held me close, reassuring me that I was wonderful and her absence in my life was her loss. I talked through my messes and he listened, giving advice if and when I asked. He talked through his frustrations and I listened, giving advice if and when he asked.

But most of the time we ripped each other’s clothes off.

Yep. That’s what we did. And I finally got to spend some quality time with his buttocks, thighs, and calves. They were wonderful.

Duane pulled up to the stone steps and cut the ignition, then jogged around to my side of the car. I was barely on my feet before he swept me up into his arms and kicked the door closed behind him. I snuggled against his broad chest and placed a kiss on his neck; meanwhile, he had the keys ready and unlocked the cabin door, crossed to the bed, and placed me gently on top of the covers.

I sat up and fumbled to remove my clothes, the room spinning a tad, likely the effect of too much moonshine eggnog and the late hour. Duane quickly built a fire and turned back to me when he was done, giving me a pleased grin when he saw I was naked except for my socks.

“Get under the covers,” he said, peeling off his own clothes.

I did as he instructed. My eyes were heavy but I managed to keep them open long enough to watch him undress.

Sleepy tipsiness meant I was saying and thinking in tandem, “I like watching you take off your clothes, it’s like unwrapping a present.”

My stream of consciousness nonsense was rewarded with a broad smile, his glittering sapphire eyes just visible in the dim cabin.

“How do you think I feel? Having you to myself, naked? It’s like winning the lottery.”

I giggled at this and turned my face into the soft pillow. A moment later the bed dipped and I felt him climb in next to me, one of his legs moving between mine, his strong arms bringing my chest against his, and his hands smoothing down my body.

“Go to sleep, Jessica,” he whispered as he stroked my hip. “Go to sleep and have sweet dreams.”

“So, dream of you and your hot looks?” I mumbled, relaxing into his skin, my eyes already closed.

His hand paused on my hip and I felt his lips curve against my temple.

“Or dream of you and your sassy backtalk?”

His smile grew.

“Or dream of you and your goodness? Your…yawn…irksome integrity.”

This earned me a chuckle and a squeeze.

“Or maybe I’ll just dream of us, like this, forever.” I shifted against him so I could get closer. “Yeah…that’s what I’ll do. I’ll dream of home.”

“Is this place home?” He kissed my cheek and I discerned the lingering smile in his voice.

“No, Duane.” I shook my head and confessed just before tumbling into blissful sleep, “You are.”

~The End~