Dopo quasi due anni, ci sentiamo più vicini che mai e piangiamo ogni volta che dobbiamo lasciarci andare.
Siamo come la droga: non possiamo fare a meno l'uno dell'altra.
Quando ti ho visto piangere, volevo buttare giù le porte del treno e baciarti forte.
Ma sappiamo che ci rivedremo presto. Te l'ho promesso, come sempre.
The sun is high overhead, producing heat just on the other side of comfortable even with the wind from the steady clip of their sail whipping across her skin. She looks behind her to find Killian and suggest that they drop anchor and spend an hour or so in the water (and in considerably less clothes). His back is to her as he gathers a long trail of worn rope, his biceps flexing and back muscles stretching beneath the barely there white shirt she only found out he owned earlier today. Whatever thought she had gets tangled up in her tongue as she watches him work, forever thankful that he’s here, that he’s hers.
His head whips up to look at the clouds overhead, concern evident even from this distance in the crease of his brow and the wrinkle of his nose. She follow his lead, but only sees the sun as it plays hide and seek with fluffy white clouds. As if on cue, a single drop of rain hits her nose with a splash. Suddenly overcome with joy, she laughs and opens her arms wide, welcoming the rain as two drops become three, four, losing count as the surprise summer shower begins to coat her skin.
She watches as Killian drops the rope to the deck, his smile bright as his focus and direction shift to her. Rain and sweat have turned the white linen into a second skin, making him look like a pirate straight out of one of those cheesy romance novels, all dark chest hair and swarthy skin, eyes growing stormier with each step he takes towards the helm. She’s been on the water with him enough times to know when to be afraid of the weather. This passing rain shower is of no concern, it will be over within moments, making her giddy with anticipation to make it count.
She’s pretty sure she pulls him in, but his lips are on hers so fast she can’t really be sure. All she knows is she has to wrestle her arms from between them to grip the sopping fabric at his back as the whole of him presses her against the wheel. Droplets from his hair hit the top of her nose as she turns her head to change the angle of the kiss, her mouth opening beneath to welcome to languid sweep of his tongue. The initial fervor of the kiss slows, his hand moving to tangle in the wet mess of her hair as his hook settles low at the small of her back. He tastes of salt and warmth, a hint of coffee from their breakfast. Seeking his skin, she bunches his shirt in her palm until the end lifts high enough for her to reach underneath, catching his grunt of enthusiastic approval against her lips.
When his hook mirrors her hand and slides between her wet tank top and her spine, his reward comes in the form of his lower lip finding its favorite spot between her teeth. No sooner has she released it does he dive back in, smiling against her lips as she settles in for the long haul. He kisses the left corner of her mouth and then the right, nudging his nose against hers affectionately until her smile widens and he can slip his tongue back between her teeth.
As her arm circles his neck to pull him impossibly closer, she registers that the rain shower has indeed come to an end. This kiss, however, is far, far from done.