His lips closed over mine and his body formed a shield around me.
And I was lost.
So lost.
But found at the same time.
Found because I was where I belonged in his arms.
***
I woke before the sun had risen.
I smiled over at the sight of Dean sleeping on his stomach, his arms crossed beneath his head. I reached out and brushed a lock of dark hair off his forehead.
My body still hummed from the road map of his touch across my skin. I felt tired, but happy, so inexplicably happy. Even now, my smile was so large it nearly split my face.
Last night felt like a dream, but the soreness in my muscles reminded me that it was very much real.
Every touch, every kiss, every moan and every breath, would be imprinted in my mind for the rest of my existence.
I knew I was too giddy to fall back asleep so I reached for Dean’s t-shirt and slipped it over my head and put my panties back on.
I grabbed my backpack and slipped out of the tent.
I tiptoed my way over to the boulder I’d sat on last night. I pulled out my journal and began to write. I felt inspired and I found myself writing poem after poem—that’s what most of my journal was, and the reason I didn’t want Dean to see it. No one knew I wrote poetry and I’d prefer to keep it that way. It was far too personal to ever be exposed.
A twig snapped behind me and I jumped, clutching my journal to my chest, startled by the noise that had dared to disturb the peacefulness around me.
I relaxed when I saw Dean standing there adorably rumpled. His jeans hung low on his hips and his hair was a wild mess. He smiled crookedly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. His glasses sat on the end of his nose—he rarely wore them, but I loved it when he did.
He was giving me the same once over I’d given him.
There was no awkwardness in the air around us after the events of last night.
Just love. So much love.
Dean slid onto the boulder behind me, like he had last night, and wrapped his arms around me. His chin rested on my shoulder and he bent, pressing his lips to the exposed skin of my shoulder where his shirt had fallen to the side.
“Why are you up so early?” He burrowed his face into my neck and I giggled when his hair tickled my skin.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I shrugged against him, “I’m too happy.”
I felt his smile against my neck. “Me too.”
I snuggled against his chest. His warmth was welcome against the cool morning air.
“Something tells me the sunrise will be spectacular here.”
“Mhmm,” he hummed, gently biting at the spot where my neck met my shoulder and then pressing a tender kiss to the same spot.
“I’m scared to go home,” I confessed.
His lips stilled against me. “Why?”
I turned in his arms to look up at him. “I’m afraid things will be different when we get home…with us,” I clarified.
His eyes were clear behind his glasses and he shook his head. “Going home changes nothing, Willow. You and me…this is real.”