The profession of her love warms him, and his stroke slows long enough for him to tilt his head back and meet her eyes.
"My love fer you is what brings me home; puts my spurs in my mare's side; knowin' that every hoofbeat brings me a moment closer ta bein' in yer arms again. This is where I wanna be." Not sharing a bed with someone else. Sweeney leans to kiss her again, deep but not lingering, so he's able to whisper against her lips.
"With you, my love." He sneaks another kiss before he smiles, not straying from her skin.
"My beautiful, beautiful wife."
It had been one of the first words he'd learned, and even with all they've grown and shared since, he refuses to let it go. It keeps their love fresh in his heart and in his loins, and he has no plans to sacrifice that, just because the word is simple.
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"My love fer you is what brings me home; puts my spurs in my mare's side; knowin' that every hoofbeat brings me a moment closer ta bein' in yer arms again. This is where I wanna be." Not sharing a bed with someone else. Sweeney leans to kiss her again, deep but not lingering, so he's able to whisper against her lips.
"With you, my love." He sneaks another kiss before he smiles, not straying from her skin.
"My beautiful, beautiful wife."
It had been one of the first words he'd learned, and even with all they've grown and shared since, he refuses to let it go. It keeps their love fresh in his heart and in his loins, and he has no plans to sacrifice that, just because the word is simple.