She tastes like sugar.

The word that graces her tongue when she’s feeling playful or feeling southern. The flavor of her coffee every morning, the flavor of the sweetness in her tea.

She tastes like spices.

Like the Cajun food he’s given her has become a part of who she is. Like the fiery temper she was born with has a taste that he can lick and kiss and breathe.

She tastes heady like desire, full like satisfaction, light like hopes and promises. He finds her when he can and draws her in to taste her.

She tastes like home.