“It’s not magic,” Markle said, breaking Frye’s thoughts. “It’s never been the magic. I was drawn to you and you’ve been drawn to me. That’s love.”
Could it really be so simple?
Frye moved closer to Markle, their bodies pressing together once again. He peered into Markle’s eyes, looking for the hesitant youth who’d been there so recently. He was gone. Replaced by this man who knew exactly what he wanted. And he wanted Frye.
Frye leaned in and closed his eyes. His lips found Markle’s and they worked slowly against each other. A slow kiss, but oh, so pure. It was not the heady desire that usually accompanied their physical touches. It was not raging and unquenchable.
Pulling back, Frye gazed at Markle again. “I love you, too.”
Markle smiled then, and some of the innocence returned. Perhaps he wasn’t gone entirely, only matured by the truths Frye and Magana had forced upon him.