“Promise me,” she begged.
“I promise,” he whispered. He pulled her into the warm circle of his arms, where the air smelled of cloves and fresh hay and, best of all, him. This was where she belonged, where she wanted to stay forever.
“How can I trust you?” she asked. “How can I believe your sweet words? Words cost nothing.”
He covered her lips with his own, dry from his travels, but still soft with adoration. His hands twined in her curls, pulling her as close as nature would allow. His tongue traced along her lower lip once, twice and she felt her pulse quicken in her throat. He lifted his mouth from hers and gazed down through thick, dark lashes.
“Tell me what you need to believe. Ask of me anything–the moon, the stars, the sun itself–and I will retrieve it for you.”
She smiled coyly at him and kissed his fingertips.
“Anything, my sweet. I would give you anything to prove the strength of my love.”
The moon glinted in her eyes, as if off coins at the bottom of a deep pool. Her smile widened.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she purred. “Come here.”
He was still fumbling with the back of her corset when her teeth tore into his neck.
_ _ _ _ _
*7/8/18 prompt: “fingers full of promise”