No one expects to fall in love over conversations about cows and constellations across thousands of miles.
But no one could have expected the likes of him, least of all me.
I'm usually the type of woman who walks blindly into passion, chasing a feeling that consumes me like wildfire. Getting lost in the intensity and immediacy of that irresistible heat is almost as much of a rush for me as the feeling itself, and I've been a prisoner to my pursuit of that intensity for as long as I can remember.
But with him, I chose every careful step as I walked, eyes wide open, into his fire. Unlike the wild fires that came before him, consuming me along with everything else in their path, he was a pillar of control, a carefully curated arc of white hot flame that burned hotter and with more intensity than any wild flame I'd ever encountered. The difference was, he was a choice I made- not a thing that happened to me.
His white-hot deliberate fire became the gold standard for my affection until I found that, somehow, there was no one else. It was him and him alone that I saw, that ignited the twin flame in me even across the ocean that separated us.
We spent months cultivating that slow burn into something tangible, layering familiarity into the chemistry of our easy conversations and sexual tension. The distance did little to mask our connection and ensured that every step was just as deliberate as the first we had taken toward one another. Often a conversation would stretch on until it lasted all night, until the sun was rising in his sky, and each day and week that passed as we worked through the ashes of our respective lives to uncover one another. By the time we took the leap to meeting in person, I felt more sure of him than anything I'd ever done before. Which is probably for the best since we jumped in with both feet, planning a multi-day coastal road trip instead of doing something simple like dinner and a film.
___
Amid the planning and dreaming, our "what ifs" become "whens" that lead right to the moment he is pulling up to my hotel, the sun so fittingly peeking over the horizon as we meet for the first time. He steps out of the car, arms open and dark eyes dancing, his smile brighter than the rising sun as he takes me in. I fold neatly into his embrace, my head on his broad chest and his arms around me like I belong there. There is no hesitation in that moment,it's as if we have always been. It marks the end of the wondering, and the beginning of what is to be.
And there is so much to be.
We'd squeezed as many of our hypothetical plans into our adventure as possible- hiking, waterfalls, fairy glens, stargazing and sampling all the interesting cuisine we could find. Each of the high points on my wish list is accounted for with his hybrid trip organization- half well planned and half devil may care. Early on, I'd mentioned my fascination with fluffy cows, and he'd off handedly promised he would make a note. I hadn't forgotten- I take my cows very seriously- but assumed he had.
At least, I assume as much until he abruptly pulls off the frighteningly narrow strip of pavement and into the grass on a largely quiet and unremarkable stretch of coastal highway on the second morning of our trip. I shoot him a puzzled glance, but when he gets out of the car and motions for me to follow, I see why we stopped.
"Cows, love. As promised," he tells me proudly.
Sure enough, fuzzy sepia-toned cows adorn the hillside just beyond the road and my heart soars. He remembered.
I beam at him and close the space between us to press my lips to his in a grateful kiss. I lean into him, winding my arms around his neck as I deepen the kiss. It takes only moments of this innocent kiss to heat my blood, the warm fuzzies of his thoughtfulness sparking my always lingering desire for him, but too soon he breaks away with a knowing smile and takes my hand.
He leads me up a small incline, carefully navigating the soft grass to avoid stepping in any nasty surprises, until we are standing in an open field at the top of a gently rolling hill. To my left, the cows dot the impossibly green grass. To my right, a narrow strip of pavement that winds through the landscape and just beyond that, the coast. I am surrounded by beauty begging for my attention yet I am focused only on the man behind me as his arms loop around my waist. He tilts his head into mine to rest his cheek against my hair.
This moment is perfect; the world around us so beautiful I can barely fathom it as reality. I feel alive in a way that has me buzzing with restless, needy energy. And all of that energy hones in on my acute awareness of his proximity to me, an awareness that I've taken to as if I've always known it, until the gorgeous scenery is nothing but an afterthought and I'm closing my eyes, swaying a little as I press my ass against his hips. I feel the heat of his body so close to mine, and his breath against my cheek is coming just a little shallower as his arms tighten and shift around my middle until he grips my hips instead to still me.
I turn in his arms so I'm facing him, chin tipped up and mouth seeking his as I slide my hands up his chest and fist them in his shirt to pull him toward me. On my tiptoes, I catch his bottom lip between my teeth softly. His eyes close, falling into that needy feeling that seems to pull us both under at a moment's notice. He kisses me then, his hands dropping to the small of my back as I whimper into his mouth.
Cows be damned.
I want him.
Now.
Here.
My hands drop just as his did, over his chest and stomach, my nails catching the edge of his shirt then under it so I can drag them against his skin lightly until I reach the waistband of his jeans. I run one finger beneath it, testing his limits for my desire in this moment.
"I don't know how," he murmurs against my lips, "we keep finding ourselves in these situations."
"It's you, you're insatiable." I tell him as I break the kiss to look up at him with wide eyes.
