“I shall never forget the way your skin smells in the morning,” he whispered, brushing his nose along my shoulder blade and up to my nape where he then placed a kiss. “Nor how warm you feel in my arms.” I closed my eyes and focused on every place we connected—the light pressure of his arm around my waist, the moving of his chest as he breathed, and the softness of his lips on my neck. They were things I stored into memory. Treasured.
