‘There are so many things I want to do, so many ways I want to make love to you,’ Cal said as he lifted her onto the bed and followed her down. ‘But this first time as man and wife I simply want to do this.’ He slid into her in one smooth stroke and then paused, looking down at her. ‘I want to make love to you very slowly, watching you, convincing myself that this is real, that you are truly mine.’
It was exquisite and slow and they moved together, wordless, looking into each other’s eyes, saying all they needed to with their bodies while the cool air bathed them in the scent of mown grass and the sound of evening birdsong and, distantly, the music from where the people they loved were celebrating their marriage.
‘Come with me, Sophie,’ Cal whispered when the tension had built to the point of exquisite torture. ‘Come with me, my love, my darling, my heart.’
And she did as they flew free, came home, became one. Converts to love at last.
THE END