“I love you,” Jenny said, wrapping her arms around Tom. “You mean everything to me.” They kissed, a long cling that made her heartbeat flutter.
Tom pressed warm lips into the side of her neck. She could feel the soft bristle graze across her skin. She stretched, a languished feeling that made her think of a cat pulling itself long, thinning itself out to enjoy a patch of warm sunlight.
His hands dropped from her shoulders, to her waist, encircling her hips. He pulled her forward, crotch to crotch. The rocked for a moment, layers of clothes rustling softly. “I love you too,” he said, a warm exhalation in her neck. They had watched UP earlier that day, now his grip tightened. “That movie made me feel so old.”
Tom was 15 years older than Jenny. It was a fact they’d danced around all the years they’d been together. Neither could imagine life without the other, neither could stand the thought of the age difference and what it meant in terms of log-term companionship.
“I knew the stakes when I married you,” she reminded him. “I took the whole package.” Her eyes were burning. Too much love, too intense. “I’d rather spend ten years with you, knowing I’ve been truly loved, than ten years with anyone else and never getting half as much.”
Stockpiling, her mind whispered. Collecting hugs and kisses and squeezes and sweet loving words. Insurance against long lonely nights she hoped would never come.
He pulled away and looked at her. “That’s sweet.” He kissed her again, lightly. They held a moment longer, and then let go. He climbed back on the ladder. “Can you hand me that screwdriver?”
by Susan Rich, (c)2014 All Rights Reserved
