Dear Desmond (Love Letters 4)

“Thank you.” Her whispered words are full of amazement, making me wonder, once again, what the hell is wrong with her father.

“Desmond,” she gasps as she opens the first box. “This is stunning.” Carefully pulling out the hot wax paint set I’d found, her face is full of more life than I’ve ever seen on anyone. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

“Of course, I did. I remember everything about you, North,” I tell her sincerely.

Placing everything to the side, she crawls into my lap. Her gentle touch on my neck as her stare meets mines is full of such emotion. “This was incredibly thoughtful,” she murmurs, leaning forward and kissing me lightly.

That small touch isn’t enough, though. Not for me. And if her blush is anything to go by, not for her, either. “Come here,” I demand and pull her in closer. The first touch of our lips is soft, slow. A buildup of what we both crave.

“You’re here.” She breathes in deeply, savoring my presence.

North

Despite where I am, and how I got here, I was somewhat afraid that Desmond was a dream. A figment I made up to keep me sane. I had been terrified of waking up this morning and him not being here.

I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I want the promise of what we could be, and after the light touch of our lips, I feel like it’s within my grasp. Just moments before becoming a reality.

“I’m here, baby.” His soft words wash over me like a waterfall. Beautiful in their intensity.

“When do you leave again?” We never got too into specifics about what he does, and how often he leaves. I regret not preparing for that now.

“I have six weeks of leave.”

“Six weeks,” I repeat. My heart both cramps and sings with happiness. “Can I stay? Here…with you?” Asking that, it goes against everything I am.

“I’d be pissed if you left, North.” My eyes stray to his. The conviction in his gaze and tone make me smile. He wants me.

“I don’t want to leave.” I rub my cheek against his beard, loving the smooth hairs. Nuzzling in his arms far surpasses anything I’d dreamt of.

“Did you have plans today?”

“No.”

“Ever been ice skating?”

His excitement is infectious. “Of course. But not since I was a little girl.”

“Get dressed. We’re going to Bainbridge Island to skate. Then we’ll go look at lights and come back for hot chocolate and whatever else you want.”

“Christmas movies?”

“Works for me.”

Rushing to get dressed, I marvel at how quickly my life has changed in just a few short weeks. All because a man who cared about a perfect stranger wrote me.

“When I first got your letter,” I begin to say as I join Des in the living room, “I was going to throw it out.”

“Oh yeah?” He stands taller, like he’s waiting on bad news.

“I’m really glad I didn’t.” More than I could ever express to him.

Des walks closer to me, his hands immediately running through my hair to hold my head. Leaning forward, he murmurs, “So am I,” just as our lips touch again. This time it’s deeper, harder. There’s more than gratitude and thanks in it.

There’s lust. Need. Want.

There’s everything we feel but haven’t spoken yet.

My body wakes up for him, screaming for him to take control. I want this, us, Desmond. Everything it will entail and so much more.