Kiss Me by Moonlight
Disclaimer: The original story and characters belong to Ms Stephenie Meyer
"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close."
Tonight, he could have come through the front door—her parents were gone and the cottage was quiet—but he chose her window; he climbed through the tangle of night flowers and carried petals on his clothes.
He landed lightly on her floorboard, and grinned as she rushed to meet him.
He was overprotective, easily angered, and so often hard to understand. But he was also a romantic, and a dreamer, and never afraid to act outrageously for love. He was fearless and reckless and brave. And she loved him for it. Desperately.
Love for him stole her breath away, made her feel like she was dying and being reborn every time she looked into his eyes or ran trembling fingers through his brown hair.
She loved him for the way he sprawled on the freshly scrubbed floor, as if there was no cause for worry, as if they were not risking such trouble by being together.
She loved him for the way he found her hand, pressed it to his smooth cheek, inhaled as if her skin smelled sweeter than the petals clinging to his coat.
She loved him for the way he whispered her name, Renesmee, like a prayer for deliverance, a promise of pleasure, a vow that all this sweet everything he is to her will be forever and always.
"Promise me that that we'll stay like this forever, that tomorrow will never come." He pulled her onto the floor beside him, cradled her on his lap, held her closer than he ever had before.
Heat flared from the tip of his fingers, spread through to her, and ignited her veins, reminded her of just how much she longed to be his wife in every way. Every touch was electric. Every touch was meant to be, a celebration of the vows they made to each other and the love that consumed them.
She dropped her lips to his. Joy bled from his mouth to hers, and she sighed and lay into the fire of heat that was him. "It will never come."
"Tell me that I'll always be with you. Alone with you. You'll always be the most beautiful woman in the world." His finger trailed from her temple to her chin.
"Always," she whispered, her voice so full of adoration and love. Real love. Magnificent. Eternal.
His cheek pressed to hers, his warm breath in her ear made her own breath come faster. "Renesmee . . . you are . . ."
She was his love. She was his moon, and his brightly shining star. She was his life, his heart, his reason for existence. She was all that, and the answer to every unspoken question, the comfort for every hurt, the companion who would walk beside him until the end of forever, overflowing with beauty because she is blessed to spend her life with her love.
Her love, her love, her love. She could hear those words a thousand times and never grow tired of them.
"Forever," she whispered into the hot skin of his neck, sighing as her every dream and wish and hope came true in that one moment. To be with him. Forever.
To Be Continued . . .