She wrote from heart of the inner chamber, catching story as it came. Night gown of romance hue became dawn dress, brightened and sheened in return and rise of sun, in matching of the walls and sharp contrast of her fair, fine winter skin.
Immersed in the story, she stayed within, eyes and energy to page in capture and the write. She wrote it fast. She wrote it full, and when she finished, she felt its ending stir—she knew she wrote it well.
Tousel of hair, she looked around, returned to room and her surroundings. Romance hue bright in sun, mote beam of low-dawn rays, the find of him in smile and stand, admiring silent from doorway frame.
Smile and a warmth, awakening beyond mind and thought, as she felt the story near-to-live. Invitation of eyes, further rise of the feel, as she turned back to written page in anticipation of the wait.
Soft wrap of his hold, body’s draw to chair behind, slow deep breath and body heave in taken of his hold; head’s fall back, find of lips, then fall of his, delicate and deepening, upon her open neck. Deep breath again, body-fill and empty, expanded and absorbed more intimate in hold.
Dress and winter skin both bright in heat-focus of the rays as, in openness, her story lived.