November 20, 2010
“I don’t like thinking about the future,” I whispered into his ear as I curled up against his chest.

“It scares me a little,” I whispered again, burying my face deeper into his torso, listening for his heart to skip a beat.

“Well, you have every reason to be scared,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms tightly around my shoulders. His fingers carefully traced the three tiny freckles on my forearm, forming a triangle, sending chills down my spine and goose bumps down my neck.

“When you think about the future,” I paused and looked up towards his face. “What do you see?” his hands began to wander elsewhere as he carefully pondered over my question. His lips curved into a smile before he answered.

“I see,” he stopped and began to kiss my lips, softly, growing more loving. Our breathing began to quicken as he carefully feels my body, paying close attention to each one of my flaws that I often complain about, though he tells me these imperfections are what make me perfect. I flinch and he stops, gently pulling away from my mouth.

“I see you,” he finished. I laughed, embarrassed. And before he could continue to talk, I pressed my mouth hard against his, telling him my secrets that left him without any words to say, at all.

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