by F. E. Arliss
Winter actually giggled. “Just as long as I don’t have to swirl around a pole, I’m good.”
“You can swirl around me anytime,” Tate grinned at her as he said it.
“String bean,” Winter replied, nosing his chest. “You’d do as my dance pole from now on out.”
“Gnat,” Tate replied, then pulled her close. “Tomorrow, let’s not leave our quarters, ok?”
“Deal,” Winter said, then pulled herself up so she could kiss him thoroughly. “I’m ready to be a real family. You?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Well, I have been from the first moment I set eyes on you,” he said seriously. “I’ve just been waiting for you to accept this body.”
“I love this body,” Winter said, a slight smirk outlining her lips. “I just had to feel confident in my own.” With that she began slipping her hands over his beautifully sculpted and strongly muscled frame. “Just promise me you’ll be gentle with that,” Winter whispered nodding towards his lower extremity. “It looks dangerous.”
Tate held her eyes for a few moments, his voice earnest when he finally replied. “I will never hurt you physically or emotionally as long as I live. When it comes to this,” Tate nuzzled the tops of her small breasts with his square jaw, “you’re in charge.”
“Deal,” Winter breathed out airly, then locked her lips to his. The tendrils loosened, moved back and made a private shelter of greenery around the shelf bed. Tiny phosphorescent lights lit the tips of the buds on the branches. It was a private wonderland just for them.
