They lie there, with him holding her from behind, cradling her against him. Spooning, that’s what it was called, but she thought the word cradle was better suited to the sweet protective embrace. Sheltering her against him, like he could hold her and the world would pound at his back like waves against a rocky shore and he would not give her up.
They were flushed with the dregs of heated embraces. Embraces that seemed to be fueled by the energy from all of the things they could not find words for. It was too soon, too rash, too good. They were not young things with nothing to lose. They were mature adults with responsibilities and the complex realities of well lived lives. So they tried to say the right words without saying too much, to give them as gifts to the other; parcels wrapped in unhurried, well-formed thoughts to define much less neatly felt, heartfelt yearning. They failed.There were no words
Breath, hands and the sounds that cannot be defined, yet we all know the language of, filled the spaces that words never could find footing within.
Now, after all of the words that weren’t enough and the touches that could not be named, he held her more tightly than what could be called a “casual embrace”. She felt small and precious with him. She pushed and nestled herself more firmly against him and felt his warm soft breath against her ear, his arm tightening just a little bit more, as if she might ever want to leave.
“Would you like to make future plans with me?” He whispered into the silence that held them both
” I do” she whispered back and felt his soft sigh of held breath along the whole length of her spine.
“Would you like to make future plans with me?” She asked back into the silence that had become pregnant between one syllable and the next. The words left her like a small craft on a massive sea.
” I do” He whispered back, giving her safe harbor for as long as she wished.