Perfect

She lay on the bed next to me, her face passive, a small smile on her face, but I could read her like a book, she was incredibly nervous.

I'd gone to the bathroom and she had slipped modestly under the sheets. I joined her in bed, wrapped my arms around my fully clothed love and kissed her deeply.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

She looked me in the eye and nodded

Her hair was falling over her face, shielding one of her eyes from my gaze. I slid a hand up her side, grazing her arm and brushed her hair backwards behind her ear, my hand grazing her face.

I shivered.

I'd wanted to do that for so long, to hold her face in my hands, to touch her naked skin and be as one with her, but it had always seemed inappropriate.

I thought back to a time that felt so long ago, where I stood opposite her and raised my hand to touch the side of face, our eyes were locked on each other. My mind was in conflict over whether it was a good idea and by the time I was halfway to her cheek, my head overruled my heart and I reluctantly lowered my arm to my side, she could see the conflict in my face.

She was laid next to me, the position I'd dreamed of for over two years and I pulled her closer, held her tighter, told her it was all going to be alright and, smiling, I tried to give her back the love and support she'd always given me, to help her feel safe and happy and loved.

I'd waited all of my life to find her, waited years to hold her like this and nothing was going to spoil this moment.