Summer is almost over. The cold is definitely here. I’m sitting by the fire on our terrace. It became our terrace a few months ago. After what we went through, we felt we didn’t want to spend any unnecessary time apart.

You sit beside me and hand me a cocktail. Amaretto sour. My favourite. Especially when you make it.

“It’s a bit cold for the speciality of the house, Orange Bikini, but you love this one just as much.”
“You know, it gets hotter by the minute being next to you. Maybe I could go change…” I reply, looking deeply in your eyes.
“I wouldn’t let you finish your drink if you did that.”

We kiss. I take your hand and lead you to our bed. Of course it isn’t made. You never do it and I leave for work first. You pick me up and throw me on it.

Good thing I left my drink in the kitchen on our way here. I knew you weren’t going to let me finish it.

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