Romantic Flash Fiction 2:
As snowflakes tapped against the window pane in meditative rhythms and rhymes, stormy winds outside howled like wolves on a hunt. Tall pines swung in the blizzard like drunken seafarers on a voyage to snowy depths as powdery drifts lifted and swirled and danced to a chaotic cadence. In the distance, snow-peaked mountains watched over the violent storm like sentries at their posts, knowing all too well that the cold, unrelenting winter had brought its most stalwart onslaught this season.
But in the midst of the squall, there was a fire. It burned strong and bright and hot and made us forget that a storm raged beyond the stone and log walls of our private lodge. More than that, my love for her stirred so deeply within me that it warmed that place in both of our hearts where the fire couldn’t touch and the storm couldn’t enter.
Sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, I leaned back on the couch, slipped my hand around her waist, and gazed into her eyes. She lay on top of me and with one hand around my neck and the other sliding up my silk shirt, she said, “Kiss me again.” And I did, and it was lovely. Slow, sweet, and delicious, like a creamy cup of hot cocoa.
I had the feeling that we could have stayed that way forever, our lips allied to the other in their euphoric sway. “I want nothing to spoil this moment,” she said with her breath on mine like cinnamon spice. “We’ve traveled so far to get to this place. Couldn’t we stay one more night?”
It was true. We had traveled long, weary miles to get here, but we had never given up. We knew we’d find this place and we eventually did. The fire that warmed our bodies was nothing compared to the one that now warmed our souls.
“One more night,” I replied, “and an eternity after that.”