deep and low as he buries himself one final, sweet time.
And then? He puts his head down on the pillow beside mine and laughs. “Happy Birthday, Bessie.”
“Thank you,” I gasp. I need oxygen but otherwise, all my earthly needs have just been met. And how.
“M,” Tank babbles. “We forgot M.”
“Mmm?” I ask, not really caring. “M is for mmm.”
Tank props himself up on an elbow and looks down at me. “M is for more.” He kisses my cheek. “There’s gotta be more of that between you and me. There just has to be.”
The End
Will there be more? You can find out in Sure Shot, which takes place on Bess’s thirtieth birthday, nine years after this story takes place. Don’t miss it!
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