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He lay there.
The sun cascading a soft glow on his torso, her rays carving out the muscles of his body; his legs, arms, chest.
Maybe, under the harsh light of the moon, he would look different. Instead of a light orange blush covering his stomach, it would be an amethyst purple.
Instead of the beams, filtering through the woodland beyond the window flooding the room with light, it would look dark and quiet.
He was still.
As i walked over to the bed his head turned to look at me, a small smile placed perfectly on his rose petal lips. He held out his hand for me to take and i slid mine in perfectly, the roughness of his skin contrasting with the smoothness of mine.
I sat in his lap, our fingers interlocking, making butterflies in front of my eyes. I watched as the shadows danced on his chest, a perfect stage.
He moved his hands onto my shoulders, his thumbs making small circles on my skin.
I giggled.
His ocean blue eyes smiled up at me and he licked his top lip softly.
I bent down, pressing my lips against his, tasting the smooth vanilla i knew only too well.
His mouth opened and his eyes closed.
I brought my hands up from his chest and into his hair, mingling my fingers into his locks.
It was in these moments, these lazy sunday morning moments, that i felt free.
I belonged to a man who's eyes fill with love everytime he lays them upon me; a man who's lips play with a smile when i speak; a man who knows how much he means to me, as i mean to him.