By KBC Associate 
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The storm raged outside, wind howling through the trees, rain pelting against the windows in steady sheets. Inside the small, dimly lit cabin, the fire crackled in the stone hearth, filling the space with flickering warmth. Letisha sat curled on the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching the flames dance, lost in the shadows of old resentments and unsaid words.
Aaron stood by the window, fingers tracing the edge of the curtain, his posture tense, contemplative. They had come here to find something—maybe clarity, maybe closure. Instead, they found themselves tangled in the heavy silence of everything left unresolved.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he said finally, his voice low, cutting through the static of the storm.
Letisha turned slightly, looking up at him, the firelight casting a golden glow on his face. “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted. “Every time we try to talk, it just turns into another argument.”
Aaron exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Neither do I.” The words left her lips softer than she intended. She meant them.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension shifting from frustration into something more potent, more raw. The storm outside seemed to echo the chaos between them, but in the firelit room, there was a pause—a moment suspended between what they had been and what they could still be.
Aaron moved closer, cautiously, as if he wasn’t sure whether she would push him away. Letisha didn’t. She watched him instead, her breath catching as he sank down onto the couch beside her. He was close enough that she could smell the faint trace of pine and the storm still clinging to his skin.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, voice rough, uncertain.
Letisha hesitated only a second before nodding. His fingers, warm and calloused, traced along her arm, slow and deliberate. Her skin tingled under his touch, a sensation she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever.
His palm slid up her shoulder, over the curve of her neck, thumb grazing the pulse point there. Letisha let out a shaky breath. “Aaron…”
“I miss you,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against hers.
“I miss you, too.” The confession spilled from her before she could stop it.
The air between them thickened, charged with something beyond words. His lips hovered close, teasing, not quite touching, waiting for permission. Letisha closed the gap.
The kiss was slow, exploratory, like rediscovering something once cherished. His lips moved over hers with aching precision, hands sliding down her back, pulling her into his lap. She melted into him, the warmth of the fire, the scent of him, the sound of the rain all weaving together into something intoxicating.
Aaron’s hands found the hem of her sweater, fingers dipping beneath to skim the bare skin of her waist. A soft gasp escaped her lips. He smiled against her mouth. “I still know how to touch you.”
“I never forgot,” she whispered.
She helped him pull the sweater over her head, her breath hitching as his lips immediately found the column of her throat, working downward with slow, lingering kisses. The heat between them was growing, sparking back to life like the embers in the fireplace.
Aaron lifted her, carrying her towards the bedroom, their bodies pressing together with each step. The storm raged on outside, but in here, between the sheets, under his touch, Letisha felt something she hadn’t in a long time.
Home.
Aaron laid Letisha down on the bed, his touch slow and reverent, as if rediscovering every inch of her. The storm outside intensified, wind rattling the windows, but inside, all that existed was the heat between them. His lips traced a path down her body, lingering at the places he knew would make her shiver.
Letisha responded in kind, her hands mapping the familiar lines of his muscles, feeling the way his breath stuttered under her touch. They took their time, each caress a silent apology, a plea for more, a promise to remember this moment. Clothes fell away, skin meeting skin, and when he finally sank into her, it was slow, deep, and utterly consuming.
They moved together, bodies entwined, as the storm thrashed around them. But inside this cabin, within each other, they found something steady—a rhythm, a connection, a rekindling of everything they almost lost. Their release was a crescendo, a breaking of tension in more ways than one, leaving them breathless, tangled in each other’s arms.
And as they lay there in the afterglow, fingers lazily tracing over damp skin, Letisha realized—this wasn’t just a night of passion. It was a new beginning.