Fire that I love. Fire that made me believe in myself, inspired me to be more.
I know that fire,hisfire, can burn down the world, if it comes to that.
So he’s right.
We’ll figure it out, me and him. All of it. All of the things that are uncertain but don’t really matter if we wanna be together.
For now, I’ll just revel in this moment.
I’ll just revel in the fact that my love isn’t doomed.
My love is flourishing. It has a life. It will grow. It will live. It willbecomesomething now.
With him.
“You love me, huh?” I whisper, playing with the sun-struck hair at the back of his neck.
Those eyes of his smile. “Yeah.”
“And you stole my letters.”
“I did.”
“So you’re athief,” I tease.
Slowly, a smirk stretches his lips. “Looks like it.”
“It does.”
“I’m not just a thief though.”
I squeeze my thighs around his hips. “No?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No. I’m also a poet.”
“What?”
He bends over me, curls his sleek, cut body all around me, making himself my world. Flicking his eyes all over my face, he whispers, “Dark curls; Golden eyes.” He rubs our noses together. “Thirteen freckles; Flowers between her thighs.” He skims his lips over mine. “Sweet; So sweet; My heart; My sweetheart.”
My lips part on a shaky breath. “You wrote me a poem.”
His lips part too to inhale the air from my lungs. “Well, you do have a thing for poetry, so.”
“You called me your sweetheart.”
I mean, he’s called me ‘baby’ before, in the heat of the moment. But never this.
Never sweetheart.
“Because you’re my sweetheart, aren’t you?”
“I am.” I nod, feeling like I’ll burst. “And you are my darling.”
“I am.”
I blink, forcing my tears away. “I love it.”
“Yeah?”
