The Return.

He had been gone an entire week. She remembers the last conversation they had before he left. Every night, she comes home from work to an empty and silent house...alone. The same routine, running through the motions until he returns.

Every night, she cooks dinner...for one. She showers. Stepping out of the shower, she grabs a towel and lightly pats her cool, cream skin dry and with a single motion of stepping out of the shower and onto the floor, she dons herself in a plush blue robe and walks out of the bathroom to the bedroom...alone.

The comfortable down comforter is her only comfort in a barren bed. She smiles and pulls down the comforter then removes the robe. It's only her skin now between the sheet and the comforter. She smiles briefly remembering the time before he left until she rolls over to a blank and lonely pillow. She sighs and reaches over and grabs the pillow, holding it in her arms, her head resting on the upper portion. She inhales. The pillow smells like him. She falls asleep, her knees wrapped around the bottom corner of the pillow, her head resting on the other corner, and her arms wrapped around it until she rolls onto her stomach relinquishing the embrace meant for her lover.

He has a flight which leaves him returning home in the early hours of the morning. She's still asleep when he walks in the door. The sun hasn't even woken yet to greet him as he puts down his briefcase and quietly walks upstairs.

When he walks in the bedroom, she must have been warm. The down comforter is tusseled around her body, but pressed up against her left side, making a perfect frame of breast, waist, hip: half of an hourglass. The sheet is laid in a way that it exposes her creamy shoulders, her bare back, her tattoo on her lower back and half of her hip. Her right leg is out, exposed on top. He wonders what she was dreaming about, and based on the position of her body and the covers, he hopes it's about him.

She lays on her stomach, her soft brunette hair covering part of her face and part of her shoulder. He watches her sleep: the moonlight peeking through the window casting a silver glow on her. He continues to watch her as he undresses, her breathing ever so softly, not making a single noise, the rise and fall of her back with every breath she takes.

He walks over to her and wants to run his hand through her hair, wants to trace her spine down her back to the round tattoo waiting at the base, but she sleeps. His hand stops a couple of inches from her soft shoulder blades, and he decides against it.

He recalls the last conversation they had on the phone while he was delayed at the airport a continent away, "I miss you...a lot. Please wake me when you get home." Should he wake her though? Her peaceful slumber makes him question her wish she made to him. He decides against waking her and walks over to the other side of the bed, pulling down the covers, trying not to make a sound and slowly lowers himself into bed.

She makes a noise and slides her left hand that was by her face down so that it is parallel with her shoulder. Her beautiful bare shoulder.

He slides in closer to her so that his chest is over her shoulder, and while he runs his hand down her shoulder, he kisses her on the back of her neck.

She's not startled. She knows who it is, and she smiles. Her deep blue eyes open, and she looks at him.

"I'm so glad you're home," she says to him as she rolls over partially on her back, partially on her side. He doesn't know how it happens, but her hair falls just right on the pillow: the darkness of her hair acting as a shadow framing a creamy face with intense blue eyes looking deeply into his, and he knows that she says more to him by looks alone.

He moves his right arm and slides it around her waist and under the small of her back and pulls her close to him.

The intoxicating scent of peach mango and the delicate scent of her shampoo captures him immediately. He just wants to breathe her in, take her in. It's been a week since he's seen her, and all of the same passion and body rush comes back almost immediately. He's missed her, too.

She smiles and reaches up, the silky soft back of her hand runs along the side of his face and down his chest, resting in the center. He slides his arm back around her and pushes the little strands of hair away from her face and leans in, kissing her softly on the neck and her collarbone. She turns her head slightly exposing her neck more with a soft moan. He continues kissing her around her collarbone, up her throat and to her soft wanting lips.

As he goes to lean in for a kiss, she places her hands on either side of his head, "I missed you. This bed and this house are entirely too lonely without you here." They lean in for the perfect kiss: sweet delicate kissing, tantalizing lips. She sucks his bottom lip gently. He kisses lightly some more, and she brushes her lips against his.

She wants him closer to her. She moves her body towards him so that every inch of her skin is touching his. He moves his arm to hold her so that his hand is placed between her shoulder blades as they kiss deeper: their tongues tangoing like two young lovers on Argentinian side streets on a hot summer night. Passion, romance, and seduction.

They continue to kiss, she runs her hands down his body, across his chest, down his back and lightly down his side. She grabs his hip, and she wants him. He obliges by holding her tighter, drawing her into him as close as he can.

She knows the bed is no longer lonely. The house is no longer silent. She hears the sound of two hearts beating loudly, pulses racing. They stop kissing only briefly, smiling, staring deep into one another's eyes.

"I've missed you, too. I'm glad I'm home."
"Welcome home," she replies with a smile and a glint in her eyes.