Dancing with Time

Passionate Peaches?

"She didn't need to understand the meaning of life; it was enough to find someone who did, and then fall asleep in his arms and sleep as a child sleeps, knowing that someone stronger than you is protecting you from all evil and all danger"― Paulo Coelho, Brida

The pre-dawn light cast an ethereal glow across the room as Keith stirred. He stole a glance at Juliet nestled beside him. Her lips, the color of a perfect summer rose, were pursed in a pout even in sleep. One strand of her hair escaped the confines of her braid and tickled his cheek. A thrill still danced in his chest, a delicious echo from yesterday when Juliet, her voice trembling with vulnerability, confessed her trust in him.

But a shadow of concern lingered at the edges of his joy. He remembered the walls she'd built around her heart, a fortress constructed from the shrapnel of past hurts. With a silent vow, Keith traced the gentle curve of her hip. He'd dismantle those walls, brick by brick until she felt safe enough to give him her complete trust. As if sensing his thoughts, Juliet's eyes fluttered open, the green depths as enchanting as a moss-covered forest. A blush, soft as a watercolor wash, crept up her cheeks. For a moment, as their gazes locked, he felt a current thrumming between them, pulling him into the verdant depths of her irises. A memory flickered to life - the day at the party, her voice barely a whisper, "Keith, I... I really, really like you." He remembered the endearing stammer and the blush that had painted her cheeks a delicate rose.

"Like what you see, Juliet?" Keith's voice rumbled, a playful glint in his hazel eyes as he winked. A rosy blush deepened across Juliet's cheeks, mirroring the sunrise peeking through the bedroom window. A satisfied smirk stretched across Keith's face. He relished the ease with which he could fluster his wife. Her innocence was a constant source of amusement, a stark contrast to the fire he knew simmered beneath the surface.

Juliet cleared her throat, the sound laced with nervous tension. She attempted to squirm out of his grasp, but Keith's grip tightened around her waist, his hold as unwavering as an iron band. A playful smirk danced on his lips as he watched her struggle. Her cheeks were a beacon of crimson, her lips pursed in a pout, and her brow furrowed in a charming display of concentration.

"Let me go, Keith!" Juliet demanded, her voice laced with exasperation. Her hands rested lightly on his chest, a futile attempt to push him away. Keith found himself comparing her to a defiant kitten, her frustration only amplifying her cuteness. He chuckled, shuffling with the tangled sheets until they were both free. With a practiced maneuver, he flipped his body, hovering just above her. He could feel her breath hitching against his face, a delicious reminder of the effect they had on each other. His own heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs, a frantic drum solo he wondered if she could hear.

"Keith, stop this!" Juliet squirmed beneath him, her voice laced with a seriousness that finally pierced through his amusement. The playful smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a frown. He watched, mesmerized, as she stilled the moment he shook his head in silent refusal. His grip on her waist tightened reflexively, a surge of possessiveness washing over him. The thought of letting her go was a terrifying abyss he couldn't fathom.

"Don't ever say that," he rasped, his gaze locking with hers. The emerald depths of her eyes held a flicker of unshed tears, a stark contrast to the playful defiance just moments ago. Before she could respond, Keith surprised her with a soft kiss, landing on the tip of her nose.

"Say what?" Juliet's voice was a mere whisper, laced with confusion.

"Let me go," Keith echoed, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.

To his complete astonishment, Juliet's arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer. Her lips met his in a kiss, a spark igniting between them that defied the playful mood moments before.