"Happily ever after," he agrees, and he rolls her under him, just enough weight on his elbow to press her into the mattress with the length of his body. He looks down at her, damp hair hanging in his face. "This is all real."
"Complaint? That was no complaint. Only stating a fact. I have no complaints about you, my love," she says. "Just as I know you have no complaints about any cold feet finding you in the middle of the night."
"I've felt you press closer on winter nights, and your reluctance to draw away in the summer," he murmurs. Fewer nights than there ought to have been, but enough to see the trajectory of their future unspooling ahead of them like yarn.
It's good that he knows, without a doubt. Jill spreads her thighs for him, leaning up to kiss him again, hand slipping to the back of his neck to keep him in place so she can be thorough.
He presses against her once more, content to make out with her with his body weight grinding her into the mattress, heart surging. After everything, they have this.
Is he? He hopes so. For a minute he lets himself pretend he’s never doubted himself, but he knows he could just believe her all the time. It feels so easy.
What else can he say to that, to all her glowing words, that could possibly match? He just continues to make out with her, hands pawing up and down her, grinding against her just for the sheer joy of being close. But he does manage: “I love you, I want the world to change for you.”
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"I love doing anything with you." So there. Watching Star Trek, maintaining their home, or simply curling up together. She couldn't ask for more.
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"And you get to," he whispers, with another kiss before he continues: "Forever, and always, for the rest of our lives."
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"Nights like these with you are all I ever dreamed of."
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"Good. I look forward to every day with you. Even if you do sometimes come home reeking of monster intestines and rub it on me."
Torgal does it too.
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"Is there much to complain about when you can then coax me into the shower?"
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"They only feel so cold because you run as hot as flame."
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Nearly. She tries to endure, even if she ends up with her hair plastered to her skin from sweat.
"I prefer winter," she says, and kisses him. "I've forgotten what cold feels like."
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“You never would,” he assures her. “Not for an instant.”
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"You're in love with me," she whispers, like it's some sort of secret she's discovered and is immensely pleased to share.
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"Madly so," he says. "And completely transfixed by you, from head to toe, in my body and in my soul."
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"I chose you, my love."
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“And I wouldn’t be here at all without you.”
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"I'm so glad you are, Clive. My world is a better place because you're in it."
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