“You gotta stop saying these things to me.”
“—it’s not like I can’t get by on my own but sometimes you just don’t want to get in there and do the work.”
He gripped the back of his neck. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“But you have to keep the happy hormones flowing. Grow that serotonin at home with an orgasm a day. That’s what they say.” The words kept coming but my brain had no involvement. No brakes for this runaway truck. “Not that I have any plan on doing that. On using them. Like, here. Because—well, you know. Just the one bed. And I already checked the box this morning so I’m good. I’m great.”
Ryan set the platter down on the bed and bent at the waist, his hands on his knees and his chest heaving. It took me a minute but I realized he was laughing. It sounded more like drowning on dry land.
I could’ve been embarrassed. Could’ve curled into a small, mortified ball and found a corner to hide in for the night. And maybe I would’ve done all of that if I’d spewed all those inside thoughts on anyone else but this was Ryan.
“Get a hold of yourself,” I said, smacking him on the back. “You’re the one who wanted to marry me. You’re legally required to put up with my weirdness now.”
He wrapped an arm around my thighs, still bent at the waist, still shaking with laughter. He rested his head above my knee. “There was just so much of it at once.”
“I suggest you get used to it.” I smoothed a hand down his back. “It will only get weirder.”
“I’m sorry I walked in on you like that,” he said.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry I left the doors open.”
I felt him blow out a breath. “Your bucket of fries will be here any minute now.”
“Consider yourself absolved of all crimes,” I said.
With another ragged breath, he glanced up at me. “Why is a bra making it look like you’ve been whipped?”
I made a cupping gesture in front of my breasts. “It takes a lot of heave-ho to make this work. It leaves marks.”
He patted my thigh and straightened, his brows pulled together tight. “Is there something we can do to fix that?”
“I’m used to it,” I said. “And it fades pretty quickly.”
He extended a hand toward me but snatched it back and shoved it in his pocket. “Does it hurt?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that bad. It just looks gnarly for a bit.” Gesturing to him, I said, “I’ll let you change. I hear it’s helpful to close the doors while doing that.”
Ryan flipped open his cuffs, then the buttons on his shirt. “From the same people who recommend an orgasm a day?”
I blinked as he shrugged out of his shirt. And there he was, muscle and ink and tanned skin. I cleared my throat. “Surprisingly, no. Different schools of thought.”
He tossed the shirt to a chair near the window. “Understandable.”
His hand dropped to his belt and something clicked in my head. I had to get out of here right now unless I wanted… Unless. “Think about which movie you want to watch tonight,” I said, crossing to the door.
“We never finishedThe Mummy,” he said.
I didn’t stop, didn’t spare a backward glance when I heard his belt hit the floor. “Gonna stay awake this time, husband?”
“Bet on it, wife.”
And once again, Ryan was asleep within the first ten minutes of the movie.
I hadn’t bothered to build the wall of pillows just as he hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt. All of this became a pressing matter of concern when the slumbering bear beside me decided to roll across the great expanse of this bed and throw his arm around my waist.
It was the first time I’d been able to study his tattoos at this range. Swirling lines, almost like stylized ocean waves, ran from his shoulder down to his wrist. There were trees and flowers, clouds and constellations. It was beautiful. A layered work of art.
When I knew he was deep asleep and holding me like he’d never, ever let go, I traced the lines with the tip of my finger. Just like last time, he didn’t stir.
