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The Definition of Peace

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The Definition of Peace

When I returned from my stint in Rio, I was a changed man. I was never meant to see the end of the yearlong assignment, assuming I would meet my fate as I should have in the Battle of Britain and join my fallen compatriots. But I survived again, and the empowerment that invaded me, my body, my limbs, my heart and my mind was humbling, and it changed the way I viewed life. I returned to London for lack of anywhere else to go, looking, searching for a place to belong after all I had been through.

The desire to track down and find Hester was there, in the back of my mind, niggling in my brain. When it came down to it, I couldn’t go through with the act. I was no longer that man, that man had died when he landed on solid ground for the last time. The conviction to return to my previous life was absent, died with my last mission. Instead I found my compassion and my purpose, because I was genuinely grateful to be alive, finally.

I couldn’t in good conscience return to that destructive relationship with Hester; life was too precious, too short to be surrounded by so much negativity. Hester was too wrapped up in her own problems with her family and her own responsibilities to her husband. I couldn’t take on her baggage when I had my own to sort.

Lithe, silky skin brushed against mine and pulled me from my preoccupation sensually. Inhaling the incredibly erotic smell of cinnamon, honey, and a wood burning fire, I buried my face in her hair, grounding myself again with the source of that heady aroma. The woman in my arms was my present, my future, my home and my true ambition.

Diane moaned as she stirred from sleep, the day’s light slinking in through the small gap between the drapes to kiss her skin. She shifted again, he legs rubbing against mine, my body instantly in tune with hers and alive. Her sleep laced voice croaked, “Freddie?”

I pressed my being to hers to assure her that I was there, I was completely with her. Reverently I laid a loving caress down her arms and tangled my fingers with hers. She was soft and innocent, precious and captivating.

We met along the embankment along the Thames, and I knew instantly my life was changed for the good. She stole my breath, my heartbeat and all thoughts in my head. I was blessed to know her, a better man and person for it. She believed the best in others. She knew the damage and destruction I had seen, wanting to erase the bitterness. Diane was an angel, my personal savior. I wooed her, winning her devotion as she has stolen my heart.

Where my affair with Hester had been passionate, my feelings and affections for Diane was consummate. My every thought, concern and regard was directed her way, and she mirrored all that and gave back to me ten-fold. She taught me how to live and appreciate again, as Hester had been unable. Hester showed no patience or sympathy for all I had been through, Diane did. She listened, absorbed, asked questions, and with her attention, healed my wounds. She helped me understand that I was alive and well for a reason.

The woman beside me curled herself around to face me. Her tiny cool hands easily slid up the plane of my chest and around my neck. Intimating that she needed more, she wiggled underneath me and urged me to blanket her body with mine. I happily obliged her, my blood rushing to my sex.

Her sultry, dulcet voice prodded and spurred me into a lustful haze. “Freddie, make love to me. I need you.”

Covering her mouth with mine, I mirrored and repeated her sentiment back to her before kissing her completely. She opened to me completely, her mouth and her legs. Carefully, I worshiped every inch of her body with my hands, followed by my mouth, teeth and tongue. She sighed, moaned and whispered endless words of devotion into the open space of our bedroom.

I claimed her body as I had done so often before, with gentility, tenderness, affection, and my endless, boundless, unconditional love. We stayed completely tangled in one another, utterly reveling in our attachment to one another. For every sigh, every pant, every move we made together brought us closer together, made us a family and a home, forever entwined.

Diane was a balm, my salve, and cure for all the damage the war inflicted upon my mind. She took my hurt in herself and morphed it into a strength so I could live with the painful memories without the debilitating effects. I was better for knowing her, a human man among the living.

When we returned to ourselves after our intense lovemaking, she sighed and smiled for me. One of her hands twined in my hair as the other caressed my cheek. “I love you, Freddie.”

Caressing my hand down her body and over her small swell of her belly, I said, “I love you, too, my angel.” I splayed my hand over our growing child in her womb. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Thoroughly spent, but that may be mother talking. Peanut is quiet this morning.”

I brushed a kiss along her abdomen, eager to meet our creation. I found myself marveling again at how much my life had changed in two years’ time. I had a gorgeous wife, a beautiful baby on the way, and I was healed. I looked up at Diane, slightly overcome with emotion, and said, “You are my peace.”