It's not the pale moon

That excites me...

That thrills and delights me

Oh no, it's just the nearness of you.

 

It isn't your sweet conversation

That brings this sensation.

Oh no, it’s just the nearness of you.

 

When you're in my arms

And I feel you

So close to me

All my wildest dreams

Came true.

 

I need no soft lights

To enchant me

If you would only grant me

The right to hold you ever so tight

And to feel in the night

The nearness of you.

-Norah Jones, "The Nearness of You"

 

 

       I tightened my tie, then smoothed my hair for the third time. Thanks to whoever the genius was that planned the NHL schedule, I was going to spend New Year's Eve with him...and my nerves were on high alert, leaving me with cold, sweaty hands and a racing pulse.

       I checked my watch: 10:46. With a final glance in the mirror, I left the visitor's locker room and walked out into the cold air. He and I had agreed to meet at my hotel at eleven o'clock, though we weren't going to be in my room. We'd reserved a suite--we didn't get to spend enough time together as it was, let alone get to be with each other for a holiday.

       When the elevator reached the twenty-first floor, my heart picked up speed, and I had to fight myself so that I didn't run the final few steps. I knocked on the door, and a moment later, his form, encased in a black suit, came into view. Under thick, dark eyebrows and long lashes, his eyes, the most clear, pure, perfect blue in the world were smiling at me.

       I smiled back.

       "Brent," he said softly, reaching for my hand. I entwined my fingers with his, and then closed the door behind me.

       "Curtis," I breathed, falling against him, my arms tight around his shoulders. He hugged back, burying his face in my neck. We stood like that for a long time, with his breath warm on my neck and me whispering his name over and over, afraid that if I let go, he would disappear.

       It had been so long since he held me.

       He pulled away first, guiding me over to the window, "Its beautiful, isn't it?"

       The Detroit Skyline met Lake Erie, lights sparkling below us, stars twinkling above, and the pale moonlight shone over all of it. It was reflected in his eyes, or else I'd have never known what it looked like, because I refused to look away from him.

       "Beautiful," I confirmed, and he blushed, looking at the carpet for a moment.

       "Thanks," he replied, then walked to the table nearby, pouring two glasses of champagne. He handed me a flute of the bubbly, golden liquid, and then clinked them together, "Happy New Year."

       "Happy New Year," I echoed, taking a drink but never taking my eyes from his.

       We didn't really need any other words; we had spoken enough on the phone for the days, weeks, months that we were apart before this. Words paled in comparison to the things that I was reading in his eyes, in the soft curl of his lips.

       I love him.

       He knew that, of course. He knew everything about me. I might have felt exposed if it were anyone else. Instead, I felt cherished, wanted, loved.

       He loves me.

       I knew it, just from the flicker dancing in his eyes. His eyes told me everything I needed to know, everything I could never think to ask.

       I leaned in, pressing my lips to his. His mouth was warm and soft, and when his lips part, he tasted like sweet champagne, and it intoxicated me, because I'd been without him for so long. His fingers wandered to my scalp, and the hairs on my arms stood on end, the shiver working its way swiftly over me as the kiss deepens. I latched my arms around his waist and pulled him closer, until his stomach was flat and hard against mine.

       "So long," I whispered against his mouth, and he nodded, slipping a hand between my shirt and suit jacket, and he pulled it from my shoulders, letting it slide to the floor.

       I loosened his tie, letting it land at my feet, then discarded his jacket as well. I needed him, and I was sure that he knew that, because he moved faster as he unbuttoned my shirt and helped me with his, since my hands were trembling violently. I missed him so much, and then he was there, staring at me and smiling at me and running his thumb over my cheek, his strong chest pressed flush against mine, and I wanted to cry from the perfection of it all.

       I love you.

       I told him the words without speaking, and his gaze returned the expression, and then, wordlessly, we moved to the bed. He cradled my head as he tumbled to the bed, half on top of me, and then he kissed me again, a slow, promising kiss. His hand slid down my chest, then over my stomach, and then he tugged at the button my pants. He slipped them over my hips, then to the floor, and soon after, his slacks joined them.

       He kissed me again, and then his lips moved to my throat, to my collarbone, to the center of my chest. As he kissed down my stomach, his hands peeled my boxers off, and when his tongue dipped into my navel, he slipped his shorts off as well, and I stared at his body, naked and powerful and glowing in the lamplight.

       He took me into his mouth slowly, agonizingly so, and I tangled my fingers in his hair, wanting him closer, needing his warmth. He cooperated, taking me deeper, and I shuddered in sweet pleasure, knowing that I was never going to see anything more beautiful than the desire heating the blue in his eyes while he looked up at me.

       He pulled away from me, but was back in an instant, moving up my body until he was kissing my mouth again. He slowly let me fill him, and once inside, I was whole again. All of those months, there had been something missing, and I had it again. I was a part of him, and I never wanted to leave.

       Perfection, I realized, glancing at the digital number as they flickered to midnight, and feeling him tense around me as PM switched to AM. I lost myself then, tumbling into the clear pools of his eyes, which were shining with the same promise that I knew was radiating from my gaze, a vow that we would do this again. It was another beginning for us.

       But I didn't need to tell him that.

       He knew.