He pinches my waist, and I squeal as he hoists me over his shoulder. He walks into my room with my legs kicking. He lands a hard slap to my ass, a loud smack bouncing off the walls with the lack of cushion on my pants-less bottom. He tosses me onto my bed before crawling over me, the sting on my skin suddenly the least of my worries as that chain I love dangling off his neck tickles my chin.
“I guess itisa skill women have,” he says in a raspy voice. His hand braces my waist, gliding down to my hip.
This feels like a nighttime routine at this point. Andrew and I come home from work, sometimes his place, sometimes mine. We eat, fill each other in on our day, and make our way to bed. Sex is usually on the itinerary, just like a shower and brushing our teeth, and we fall asleep like we’ve been doing this for much longer than just a few months.
None of it’s anything remarkable. In fact, it’s almost mundane. But it’s the mundane I’m finding a new level of comfort in. Not fancy gifts or expensive dinners. But spread out on the sofa or our beds, fighting our sleep with the TV playing the last bits of whatever we decided to put on. Or eveningwalks with Buster, where all we do is take a stroll around the block, holding hands and picking up some dessert. It was never like this with my ex-husband. Our lives were always in motion. Going to the next party or dinner or whatever event where I stood by his side dressed in something steamed and smoothed, always looking like I was a porcelain doll instead of his partner.
“So, do you think Teeny caught on?” he suddenly asks. His lips make their way to my neck, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses, and the words feel like I’m being doused by cold water.
“Are you worried about it?”
He pulls away and bumps his nose against mine, a playful nudge to warm the suddenly shifted mood. “No, just curious.”
“I don’t think so,” I answer him. “But…”
“What?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe it’s not the worst thing if she knows. I mean, if we keep this up, we can’t keep it a secret forever.”
“Really?” His sweet grin makes my heart melt, and then I realize how much he’s been holding back this whole time. He wants Teeny to know, and he’s been keeping his thoughts quiet for me.
I pause, walking past the point of no return. “I mean, Teeny’s my best friend,” I tell him. “I hate keeping this from her, and?—”
He kisses me, and it’s crushing, expressing all the excitement in his chest through his hands. Hands that move all over me, touching and caressing and squeezing.
“Hold on there, cowboy,” I say, pressing a hand to this chest. “Let’s take it slow.” I don’t want to smother his excitement, but I’m still trying to find that middle ground I’m comfortable with. I hate to have to put him in this situation, but the blow from my last relationship left me unsettled and, quite honestly, scathed. I guess I’m not as over my divorce as I thought I was.
He clears his throat, a serious furrow shading his eyes, though remnants of that grin still remain on his face. “Right. Take it slow.”
“What I mean is we can talk about how we want to tell Teeny,” I assure. “Make sure we have the right words, so we don’t give her a stroke or something.”
“Yeah.” He nods, and I watch a little bit of that elation dim.
“Hey.” I cup his jaw and force his eyes to mine. “It’ll happen. I just have to…work up to it.”
A smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes looks down at me. The small smirk looks more appeasing than expressing the honest emotion coursing through him. It feels consolatory. Placating. Letting me know whatever it is I want, he’ll go along with it. For the sake of this. More kisses and hands and touches. No matter that it’s behind closed doors.
“How about we go out on a date this weekend?”
“A date? Why?”
He nonchalantly tilts his head. “Just because.”
“No reason?”
“I just feel like I’ve never taken you out,” he answers. “And I want to take you somewhere nice.”
“You want to wine and dine me?”
“Anything to get you to put out.”
I smack him on his butt, a sharp rebuke displayed through my bottom lip pulled between my teeth. “You ass.”
“An ass you’re going to put out for when you see where I take you.” He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, pressing them into the mattress with his strong hand.
“Oh, yeah?” I taunt. “Where is this magic, aphrodisiacal restaurant?”
“It’s a secret.”
