A congenial arm draped over his shoulder. His father blew out a perfect ring of smoke as they stood on the lawn contemplating the elegant young woman who was soon to be his wife.
The perfect dark column of her neck elongated as she flung her head back to laugh, revealing the uneven pearls of her smile.
“That’s a beautiful girl, son. Beautiful, smart and accomplished. I can see why it had to be her.”
He found himself nodding in agreement as his mind wandered to a dark winter morning spent entwined in lazy, warm sheets. The smooth, dark plane of her back neatly parted by an exquisite spine. Vertebrae that made a virtuouso of his fingers. The delight in composing melodies on skin and bone, peaks and valleys. The frown that creased her brow as she half-turned towards him, her sleep interrupted. Her half growling chuckle as he pinned her down, intoxicated by her musk, her softness, the ripe otherness in her.
He had known his woman with the purity of primitive instinct.
It seemed like an unnecessary detail to share with his father.