century. She outshines the moonlight streaming in as if she had swallowed the stars. The room loses all color and form, overpowered by her ecclesiastic grace. The candles flicker in her presence as if they, too, are venerating her beauty. My eyes never leave hers as I run my hands over her waist, slow and determined, down her perfect thighs before pulling the dress right off her body. Here she is, in her lace bra and panties—a masterpiece right off the lingerie runway. One of my first memories of Skyla is of her dressed like this. We swam at the Falls of Virtue when everything was still new and I hadn’t had the time to fuck a single thing up between us. We shared kisses that afternoon that testified that we would make it someday, and here we are, ready to prove ourselves right.
I sweep my eyes down the river of her curves. Hot damn.
Skyla is a testament to the female anatomy. Hers is a physical perfection that borders on insanity.
My eyes move over her, slow and intrusive. It takes great effort not to let her into my thoughts. Every part of me wants to cave into Skyla tonight. I swipe a towel from the counter and lay it over her shoulders, drying the water that’s beading down her body in long, seductive trails. Her flesh shivers, her breathing picks up pace. The slight trace of fear mixed with excitement blooms in her eyes.
I take a step into her until the heat from my body engulfs her like a flame.
“I love you more than the heavens love the sun and the moon, Skyla.” I crash my lips to hers and pour all of my love into that one lingual exchange. This is it. Our honeymoon. It has all come full circle from that first moment I set eyes on her in the bowling alley. She’s finally mine, for a short breath of time, and I’m determined to enjoy it—to savor it for all eternity. I’m determined to make every heartbeat stretch to the length of a thousand years. Tonight there are bodies to be explored, hers and mine. It’s as if the universe is breaking all of the rules for us tonight, God, himself, is bending his will to allow this miracle to happen, and in no way will I allow a second to drift by without pouring out my affection for her.
I take Skyla into my arms and carry her into the overgrown bedroom with enough candles lit on the periphery to rival the sun. Every flicker of the flames feels like the flash of a camera. The celestial paparazzi have shown up in droves to document the marvel of our love. A four-poster bed lies in the center of the room covered with rose petals, and I tuck a wry smile in my cheek at the thought of Dudley putting together the finishing touches. He was right. I’ll owe his twisted Sector ass for this one.
The petals give off a strong, lush scent—far better than any damn flower on earth could ever smell. I inhale deeply, ingraining the scent into my memory. If I could encapsulate my love for Skyla in a single fragrance, this would be it, aloe and vanilla, a hint of something sweet layered just beneath.
“Beautiful,” she pants out the word as her gaze travels around the room. Her eyes snag on the candles, their roiling flames winking in and out of turn. They drip their wax like rivers rushing down the waxen pillars, driving home the point that everything is ephemeral. It all ends. And with that piece-of-shit knowledge, the weight of the future presses down over this room—my heart—and it takes a bionic effort to chase it away.
“ You are beautiful.” I push the words past the knot forming in my throat. My gaze never leaves her. I need to focus on Skyla, on the fact that my dick has hardened to stone in her honor, and, for once, it might actually get some relief from the object of its desire.
I refuse to give in to the looming phantom that death has become. Instead, my heart explodes with my love for Skyla and chases any shadow of the afterlife away. I lay her over the bed and land a sea of sweet kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her perfect, swollen lips. I want to kiss