His eyes widen and I match his expression before we both crack up. He leans in and kisses me roughly, his nose bumping against mine. I cradle his face in both hands and brush my mouth against his as I pull away.
“Whatever you choose to do, I’ll be right here. You, me and this baby; this is forever.”
He inhales deeply and covers my mouth on an exhale. I kiss him back, grabbing his hair as we scramble to get closer. His hands land on my bare ass and I’m dragged into his lap. My legs spread over his thick thighs and I press my knees into either side of his hips. I lick into his mouth and Patrick moans. The sheets are caught between us, forming a layer between his cock and my sore centre. It doesn’t take much for me to ache for him, but a break is necessary. At least for a few more hours. I pull away and he slumps back against the headboard.
“There was a time when the idea of leaving hockey used to scare the shit out of me. Now I have you and our baby,” he says, smoothing his large hands over my stomach, “I’m not as scared. It’ll take time to make sense of it all, but I like the idea of my family being my new normal.”
I smile and brush his hair back, fingers catching in the knots. “Besides, I doubt you’d ever sit still. You’ve got your foundation and maybe they’ll ask you back for more LHT coaching.”
He chuckles and dips his head to kiss my stomach, then up to each breast. I push him away before he can take a nipple into his mouth. Once he starts, I won’t be able to stop him. I continue to play with his hair and his eyes slip shut. Quiet moments like this with Patrick aren’t rare, but I savour each one. My hands drop to his shoulders, tracing the palm leaves on one shoulder and the floral chaos on the other. The tip of my finger follows the neat font that reads today on his clavicle. Below are a series of numbers and a cassette with the words our mixtape. Memories fill my mind of the tapes we used to swap every summer, songs that reminded us of each other on both sides. Tracks painstakingly recorded from the radio. I press my palm to the colourful bonfire in the centre of his and meet his dancing amber eyes.
We haven’t addressed the sheer number of tattoos he has for me and we don’t have to. Knowing this man held onto our love for years means a lot. Even when I was silently hating him from a distance, Patrick added these pieces to his body. He thinks I don’t know about the lotus, but it’s hard to miss. Mine is simple and boring in comparison, but it’s the tattoo that speaks volumes of our love for each other.
I slide a finger under the light silver chain resting around his neck, dragging it down to the two small discs grazing the edge of a tattooed leaf. One has a compass pointing north and the other has a jellyfish. His hand covers mine and I blink away the emotions clear in my eyes.
He simply smiles and says, “I gotta ask about the sex rooms, Lo.”
I laugh, a watery sound because of how much this man makes me feel. I lean back, hands resting on his thighs as he drapes the sheet over my chest. My stomach is still exposed and he continues to touch and kiss the taut skin.
“Wondered how long it would take you to bring it up.”
“I was tempted to Google you further, but decided to wait for you to tell me.”
One, this man Googled me. Two, he wants me to tell him all about my big fancy job. Outside of helping land the Julia Christopher project, we haven’t really talked about what I do much. And Googling me will only get people so far, since the information is kept under lock and key.
In that moment I realise I haven’t had to explain my job in years.
“A few years after I started at Bold Lines, I was redoing the entire house of a really popular Bollywood actor. When we got to a secret room he’d built behind bookshelves, I was curious. He told me his plan was to make it a sex room. ‘Like in Fifty Shades Of Grey’, he said. At first I judged him, then I was really excited. I researched every minor detail and designed it for him. I enjoyed it so much and did a few more, then it became my thing.
“One client would tell another and before I knew it, I was designing sex rooms for the rich and famous all over the country. I’ve signed so many NDAs over the years, but if you ask, I’ll tell you.”
He laughs and reaches around to pinch my butt. “And I didn’t even have to promise you my dick.”
“That’s my dick, sir. I’ll have you remember that.”
Patrick’s responding smile is so beautiful it takes my breath away. “Yours, Lo. Always been yours.”
I blow him a kiss and shift forward. “Now if I say the name Tamara Chandy, everyone knows who I am.”
“I was thinking maybe you might like to be Tamara Joseph…”
We’ve talked about the future like this casually a few times, but I never know if he’s being serious. However, my brain isn’t in conversation with my heart when I open my mouth and say, “What about Tamara Chandy-Joseph?”
“Yes,” he breathes and kisses me. His arms slide around my back and tug me in. “I don’t really care what your surname is as long as you’re mine and I’m yours.”
“I don’t know, Trick. Name change might be easier.”
He growls and tips me backwards. I laugh and try to move away, but he crawls over me and presses his hips to mine, pinning me to the bed. “Say you’re mine, Tamara,” he mutters as his eyes flare hot and I whimper.
“You’re mine.” He grunts and shakes his head, so I add, “I’m yours, Trick.”
“And I am yours, Lo. Surname or not.”
I drag my fingers along his jaw, the coarse hair of his beard pressing to my skin as we stare at each other. I loop my fingers into his necklace and tug him down, our mouths meeting in a soft kiss. It’s a gentle pressing of lips before they part and tongues touch. I smile as he pulls away and the sadness swirling in his beautiful brown eyes catches me off guard.
“Anything else you want to tell me?”
“How do you do that?”
