Bette was so completely and deeply asleep that Tina had to move closer just to make sure that her wife was still breathing. Tina wondered if she had ever known Bette to sleep quite this soundly, or with such a peaceful expression on her face. Bette was prone to restless slumber, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to slip out of bed in the middle of the night to check email or wander through the house or sit and watch the moon’s reflection shimmering in the pool. But not last night, Tina smiled. Last night, Bette had completely exhausted both of them, gently and passionately urging Tina to the point of total surrender and then jumping off that pinnacle right behind her, holding on with a promise to never let go.

If their last time together all those months ago had been tumultuous and desperate and ugly, then this coupling last night, this reunion, had been exactly the opposite. Tender, and loving, and infused with such beauty that it made Tina’s eyes well up to think of it. Her gorgeous, strong Bette, touching her with such reverence, such sweetness. Bette’s lips and hands lingering, caressing, finding each hidden reservoir of resistance and fear and hurt in Tina’s heart and releasing them, healing them with her careful tending.

Tina felt as if her body had been discovered. Discovered, and worshipped and claimed. No one else had ever made her feel that way. And no one else ever could. That sense of completeness, of absolute union, required Tina’s willingness. And Tina reserved that permission, that total giving over of herself, for only one person. The woman who now slept in such contentment beside her.

“I love you so much, Bette,” Tina whispered, lightly resting her palm flat against Bette’s naked back, her want stirring all over again from only this simple touch.

With the gentlest of caresses, Tina smoothed her hand along Bette’s shoulders and back and arms, tracing a path she followed with her lips and tongue, breathing in and tasting the essence of wife. Her power and fragility. Her passion and vulnerability. Her complexities and contradictions. All of who Bette was. All of the things that Tina loved, had always loved.

Languidly, Bette came to life beneath her lover’s mouth and fingertips, and Tina watched as Bette’s expression of calm slowly became a silent plea for release. As Tina brushed her ***** against Bette’s skin, and gradually directed her kisses and caresses farther down her wife’s back to her waist, her hips, and her thighs, Bette couldn’t keep herself from whimpering.

“Tina,” Bette said, reaching for her wife’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Yes,” Tina breathed across her lover’s neck.

“Do youwill you.”

“What, Baby?”

“Make me yours, T,” Bette whispered.

“You’ve always been mine,” Tina said softly, drawing the tip of her tongue around the rim of Bette’s ear as she moved her fingers through the hot, wet, silk of Bette’s desire.

“Always,” Bette moaned, trembling with the ache of her need.

Tina could feel Bette’s body growing more and more tense under her touch, each muscle clenching, coiling like a spring until the tension became too great. And in the instant before Bette shuddered with *****, Tina bent close to her wife’s ear and sighed, “I love you, Bette.”