He rubbed his nose along the back of my neck, tickling me. Lying on the couch, me cocooned within his arms, he parted the hair on my neck and kissed it, short little pecks all over my spinal region. He stopped kissing and just lay there, lips still igniting infernos of butterflies in my stomach by simply resting, warm and full, against me. His breath warmed my neck, condensing slightly. It was okay though. It was a sexy kind of condensation. He wrapped his arms more protectively around my torso, burying his nose in my hair. I grinned. I loved moments like these, small, secretive moments where words would disrupt the exploration of each others very beings. Moments in which we were one, yet were separate entities, synchronized breaths and hearts telling otherwise. Words would never truly sum up what I feel in these times, try as I might, I'll never be able to explain. No words do any of it justice. But three small, monosyllabic words come as close as possible.
"I love you," he breathed into my hair.
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