I Love You Always

He slid slowly up behind me and began rubbing my shoulders, and from there, he brushed my hair aside and kissed my neck, and then gently laid my hair back down. I wanted him to touch me so much that my entire body was tingling all over. This was the first time he had touched me in a seductive way and not just as a friend.

My hairbrush was lying on the end table, and he turned and picked it up and began removing the clips from my hair and then slowly and gently began brushing my thick mane of wavy hair. His large, sturdy hands held one side of my head while he continued to pull the brush through on the other side, commenting on how soft and shiny my hair was and how it turned him on. I reached out and took his hand, stopping him from brushing my hair, and turned to look at him. His clear blue eyes sparkled in the semi-light the fireplace was making, and the silver in his hair made him look distinguished, knowledgeable, and kind. He still had the same rugged features I'm sure he had as a younger man, and his body was firm from working in construction for a living. I felt like I had known him for my entire life, when in fact I had only met him a few months ago. Our relationship was moving slow, and that frustrated me, but it seemed to be the way he wanted it and now I was getting into the intense, romantic emotions that it created inside me. He wasn't like other men who simply wanted to jump in bed with me and have their fun. He was interesting, patient, and the kind of man I had always dreamed about.

He walked over to the bar and poured us both a glass of Merlot, and then came over and handed it to me, wrapping his arm around mine as he did, and made a toast to us, the last romantic couple in the world. I laughed a little, but in some ways he was right, and the old fashioned idea of moving slowly was not always a bad idea. He sat his wine down on the floor, reached over and touched my cheek, and then he gently pulled my face to his and kissed me ever so softly at first and then he began pressing his lips a little firmer against mine and teasing me with his tongue. It was the hottest kiss I had encountered in a long time and left me quivering with anticipation. If one kiss could turn me to jello, just imagine what he would be like to make love with.

The fire crackled in time with the beat of my heart, as I watched him bend down and put his arms around my back and under my legs. He carried me across the room and upstairs where he lay me on the soft, cool comforter and removed my shoes. He then lifted me up again and put my head on the pillow and then knelt down beside the bed. He told me that as much as he wanted to feel me from the inside, he wanted my heart more, and therefore would not make love to me until the time was right, and the time wasn't yet right. I was relieved and disappointed at the same time, my body aching to be ravished by this man and yet a certain unspoken fear grew in my belly.

He handed me a bulky robe and motioned toward the bathroom where he wanted me to go put it on. Maybe if it happened to come off when I was sleeping, he might up his game and decide this was the right time, but then again, that would be pushing and I was having too much fun. When I came out of the bathroom, I saw my side of the bed made down and a single, yellow rose in the middle of my pillow. A moment later he emerged from the other bathroom and smiled, telling me I was his yellow rose, so rare among the other roses. We left the television off and tuned out the lights, both of us clinging to our own sides of the bed when I felt his cold toes touch my foot, so I came to the rescue and wrapped my feet around his, which led to him rubbing my cold thighs with his legs until I couldn't stand it another minute. I pulled my robed apart in the front and pressed my body against his until it felt as though we were one person. I could smell his individual odor; the one we all have that is unique to us only, and could feel his warm breath against my neck. He was breathing hard but always in control. We lay pressed against each other with our arms and legs intertwined until I could no longer feel my legs and had to turn over. We never got even an inch away from each other all night, and we kissed and held on to each other as though it was the most important thing in the world. I think to us it was, because I spent forty-five years with that man. He is the love of my life, and even today he still makes me feel tingly inside.