*Shelby*
“Of course, I’ll marry you, Michael! I love you so much,” I said.
He stood and wrapped me in his arms. I stood on my tippy toes to kiss him, and he slipped his hand up to cup the back of my head. His kisses were as soft as a kitten's but steadily grew in intensity as his hands wandered down my back. My hands gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to me.
In a flash of movement, Michael grabbed my thighs and hoisted me into the air. I felt as though I was hanging off the side of a cliff, supported by nothing more than his strong hands, but I didn’t care and kissed him harder.
Michael eased us both onto the tartan blanket, where just minutes ago, we had been eating our picnic breakfast. The scratchy wool teased the inch of exposed skin at my waist as my shirt wandered its way up my torso.
