warming up

the steady drip told her that it was still raining. And she did not need to look at the thermostat to tell that the temp was dropping again. she put another log on the fire and stared into it, wondering when he would make it home. The day had been long and cold and wet, and she knew he was working outside again. He would be frozen by the time he came through the front door. The tea kettle began to sing, so she went to the kitchen to turn it off. The scent of vegetable chicken soup filled the house. She stirred the pot and smiled. He was a simple and wonderful man who could make her smile even on the darkest of days. And his eyes would lite up when he walked in the door and smelled that soup.

Tires crunched on the driveway and she knew he was home. She poured the hot water into her tea pot and began steeping his hot tea. Loving the fact that he had learned to love such a civilized thing from his grandmother. There was something healing in a cup of  hot tea. By the time he got in the front door and out of his heavy coat and boots she was by his side, cup in hand. Greeting him with a smile, a kiss and a cup of warm goodness. He took the cup in one hand and her face in the other as he kissed her again. Taking her hand in his he lead her to the fire to warm his work weary bones, and commented on the lovely aroma that filled their home. How many times he had declared he was one lucky man. But she always felt like she was the lucky one.

Their evening was a quiet one. Dinner and tea snuggled on the couch. She could tell he was still chilled so she coaxed him into a hot shower hoping it would do the trick and warm him up. She watched tv from bed as he steamed up the bathroom. She wanted to watch him but somehow felt that today he needed some space. Before long he was sliding in beside her, his hair damp and curling down his back. How she loved his hair long.

He pulled her into his arms and gently kissed her. The temperature rose in an instant. Kisses trailed from her lips to her neck and back again. His hard working hands becoming as soft as silk on her flesh. There was no need for words, their bodies melding into one there under the flannel sheets. He took his time exploring her and loving her. She was putty in his hands. Kisses lead to breathless sighs that became murmers of delight.

Basking in the afterglow of their passion they were a tangle of arms and legs and giggles and smiles. She looked at him with adoration and happy knowledge that the rain could fall all it wanted because they had warmed each other up.


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