Fireworks

His muscular arms envelop me in a strong embrace.  As his chest presses against mine, the faint scents of rain and pine, of him, surround us.  I feel my body melt into his arms and he holds me tighter.  I sigh and lift my head to take in the lines of his face: sculptured jawline, full lips, strong nose, sparkling eyes full of mischief, uncontrollable curls.  Just as I close my eyes again, those lips, those strong, soft lips collide with my own.  Fireworks.  His hand cups the back of my head, combing through my hair.  My fingers entangle themselves in his thick, dark locks.  My free hand runs down his forearm, feeling every muscle and sinew.  Our lips slowly drift apart and our gazes meet.  He slows his breathing and I feel his hand, behind my back, pull me into him.  His hair tickles my face as he whispers “I love you.” I simply lean my head against his chest in agreement.   

Have you ever . . .

Girls, have you ever had one of those nights? The ones where you feel so alone? When you dream about having someone to lay next to you and breathe in sync with you? When you can almost feel those strong arms around you: protecting you, comforting you. Those nights when the television seems to be against you for all it shows is happy couples who will always be there for one another. The nights you’re so ready to be done with this whole highschool thing and just be married and know that your husband will love you no matter what. When you’re dying to hear your child’s tiny footsteps creeping toward your room to snuggle with you b/c she had a bad dream. Maybe it’s just me.