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From Lost and Found, Chapter 11 (Nate’s point of view):
I begin to recite a poem as I tap the rhythm on her skin, each syllable represented by another small speck on her pale flesh.
“One transcendent kiss
That later makes lovers take
Soft breaths, holding hands”
“That was beautiful,” she says, shivering when I kiss what has now become my favorite part of her. “Who wrote that?”
I look up at her, amused by her question. “That’s your haiku. One syllable for every freckle.”
“You wrote that?” I nod to her. “When?”
“Just now. Just for you.”
She looks at me, stunned, before a smile breaks across her face. “Say it again,” she whispers.
I clear my throat before beginning. “One transcendent kiss,” I say as I rise from the bed. Standing in front of her, I lift her chin so our eyes can meet. My stomach tightens as my thumbs brush over her dimples.
She takes a deep breath. “One transcendent kiss,” she repeats. I watch her closely as she moves toward me. Just another inch or two, and her breasts would be touching my torso. Her soft lips on mine, they move in sync. The sweet taste of her just makes me want more. My hands move slowly down her body. “Go on,” she whispers, exposing her neck to me.
“That later—” I speak softly against the hollow beneath her ear, tracing her earlobe with my tongue. Curious, I press kisses on her shoulders, her collarbone, then finally reach my destination. My lips surround the areola on her right breast.
“That later–” she gasps headily as I suck lightly, her fingernails digging into my naked back. Not wanting to ignore her left breast, I do the same, and am rewarded with a soft moan escaping her lips. I could abandon the poetry altogether at this point, and continue to find more actions that may yield the same response. It’s a beautiful sound, but I decide to continue my recitation, wanting to see her expression when I declare what we are; what we’re about to be. My lips move back up her body, stopping for a gentle peck on her forehead.
She waits in anticipation for my next words. I hold her head inches from mine, watching her eyes, the skin of her cheeks, as I deliver my next line. “Makes lovers—” My gaze seems to move through her, and she doesn’t blink as she repeats me.
“Makes lovers–” Her skin blushes a bright pink, as I had suspected it would. She would never be able to hide her reactions from me, something I had noted long ago but could never truly appreciate until now. She moistens her lips, then smiles. I lean back in to kiss her again, the passion between us beginning to boil up to the surface. Our kisses are soft and deep, fast and needing. I break away only when the need to inhale overcomes me.
“Take soft breaths—” I say quickly, drawing in the air around me, my heart racing.
“Soft breaths–” She wastes no time, either, her lips returning to mine for more. Her hands press into my flesh, traveling down my torso, pushing against my boxers. Trailing kisses down her body quickly, I stop when I reach the lacy hemline of her panties. Her breathing is expectant and shallow. I look up to her one last time. Her fingers direct mine beneath the fabric, permitting me to remove the soft garment from her body. She steps out of them as I stand back up, pushing my own underwear to the floor. She takes my hands in hers and holds them tightly at our sides. I kiss her once.
“Holding hands,” she finishes the poem.
I stare at her in silence for a few seconds before concluding her haiku.
“Holding hands.” I swallow hard as we stand before one another, completely exposed. Her hands still in mine, I wrap my arms around her back and pull her body tight against mine, her breasts pressing against me. I hold her wrists in my left hand, releasing the right one to explore her body. I drag my fingers slowly across her pale skin, hovering around her most sensitive area. She slowly puts her foot on the bed behind me.
©2011 Lori L. Otto