She finally breaks our kisses to turn her face slightly so I can move down her jawline, down her neck.  She breathes into my ear, “Who keeps blowing up your phone?” and between kissing her collarbone and trying to tune out the muffled ringtone, I growl into her bronzed skin, “Your damn brother.”

A short “Ha” escapes from her chest and she finishes with, “He’s probably calling about your damn sister.”  A hand finds its way back into my curls, her lips back to mine.  Her hands have decided on a destination and my body is stilling while they slide down my waist.

“Remind me to kill them both in the morning,” she purrs into my ear as her fingers find their desired location.  The rush of breath escaping my lips makes me miss her words.

I touch my forehead to hers, steadying the upper half of my body over the rocking, grinding, aching lower half.  My eyes stay closed as I ask her to repeat what she said.

“I said, ‘God, I’ve missed you.’”  And I pry my eyes open to see that hers have probably never left my face.  I begrudgingly slow myself down, pull my head from hers, and her hand reaches up to my face, cups  my cheek, eyebrows drawn together, asking what’s wrong.  I shake my head slowly, and I know my hips tell her I still want this, I still want her. 

I just need to know why.

I don’t need to ask; she can read my eyes like a paperback novel.  She leans up to kiss me, accidentally sliding deeper, rolling my eyes back.  My lips still find hers and she kisses me deeply, her hand holding my neck steady.  When she breaks away to kiss my cheek, kiss my earlobe, she curls the fingers on her other hand and says, “Because I’m still in love with you, Ashley Davies.”

When my world has stopped spinning, and I can finally see straight enough to look into her eyes, I can see her words were the truth.  She does still love me, she’s still in love with me. 

“Spencer,” I say, stopping her hand from brushing the whispys from my forehead.  “Not that I didn’t appreciate the gesture, but you didn’t have to show up at my doorstep naked to tell me you loved me.”

She laughed. “True, but, you have to admit it did get my point across.”  I blushed in both embarrassment and pleasure; her warm lips kissed the rosiest point on my cheek.  “I wanted to tell you in person, Ash.  And I just missed being with you, like that, like this, like we were when I first moved here, when I first fell in love with you.  I just wanted all of that back.”

“Did you get what you wanted?”  I asked, hesitantly. 

“Yes, Ashley.  Yes, I did.”  I felt relief wash over me, and I pulled her tighter to me, tangling myself into her arms.

Oh, trenchcoats…