When his hand settled on my head again, fingers sifting almost tenderly through my hair, I had the strangest urge to cry. From pleasure and fear and the overwhelming sensation that I was nothing unless I was allowed to be this to him. Have this with him. I could not imagine a life outside of this. It would be as void and empty as death itself. The words sat on my tongue for hours after, the immense and terrible truth of them: I love you. I don’t want to remember a time when I didn’t. I love you. And as long as I am able to draw breath, then I will love you with every single one. I love you.
