When Desire Becomes A Sin
“The choosing. Every day after today.”
My throat tightened. “I feel the same.”
He kissed me then not like the kiss at the altar, not for an audience, not for celebration but slow, intimate, grounding. The kind of kiss that said I’m here, I’m staying, this is home.
We moved together naturally, finding our way to the bed without words. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp and the silver wash of moonlight slipping through the window.
The sheets were cool beneath my skin as I lay beside him, my head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
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