“You know, my heart is in your hand.” His lips are agonizingly close. “I hope not. Because then you’d be dead.” He kisses me before I react. Just one tender kiss, leaving me longing for more. My good hand rises to the back of his neck, our breaths slowing together. I murmur, “Cicero said, ‘The life of the dead is placed on the memories of the living. The love you gave in life keeps people alive beyond their time.’
