As I lean deeper into the kiss, I have a fleeting memory of that time in tenth grade when I dated a senior who’d just made varsity quarterback.
As we kissed our way into the back seat of his car, I convinced myself we were in love.
It didn’t take long to realize I was wrong.
After that, I guess I gave up on the concept of romance and love, along with everything else, including myself.
But now, here at Gray Wolf, with Braxton, those memories belong to somebody else.
Braxton’s face looms before me, his eyes filling with the sight of me. Then he lifts me into his arms and carries me past the roaring hearth to lay me down on his elaborate canopy bed.
Under the muted glow of the flickering flames in his hearth, he kisses me softly, then savagely. The sound of my name drips like honey from his lips as our legs tangle together, and our bodies press so tightly, it’s impossible to determine where his ends and mine begins.
And it’s in this moment, with Braxton’s lips crushing hard against mine, kissing me like his life depends on it, that I vow to never forget how it feels to be so thoroughly adored and revered.
From this day forward, I make a solemn promise to myself that I will never, ever settle for anything less.
As if sensing my thought, Braxton pulls away, cups my face between his palms, and regards me with a gaze full of wonder.
“I’m so glad you’re back. I’m so glad you’re home,” he says, and I know in my heart that it’s true.
This boy is my home now, and I am his.