“Just take ’em,” I murmur,
Like a good girl.
I reach out, brushing my thumb along her jaw. “They’re yours anyway.”
The dogs stretch and yawn at our feet as she steps closer. Close enough for me to catch every detail I’ll never stop memorizing. The tiny freckles dusted across her nose. All twenty-seven of them. The three hidden behind her left ear. The two tucked behind her right knee. The three soft ones under her left breast that drive me insane every time I think about them.
Fuck.
I am one hundred and ten percent obsessed with my wife.
I tilt her chin up, studying her like she’s another one of my songs—every line, every note memorized but still finding something new every time I look.
“How was it out there?” I ask quietly.
“Chilly…but Peaceful,” she says, her voice soft but sure. “It’s strange… it feels like I can finally breathe here.”
“Something you don’t often hear with L.A.’s smog.” I snort, “Good.” I nod, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s all I want for you, baby. To breathe easy.”
Her lips curve, slow and sincere.
“You make it easy.”
I am easy.
Fuck, I am on one today.
The world narrows again. The birds, the wind, the world fades until it’s just her eyes holding mine.
Then she laughs, light and breathy.
“You’ve got that look again.”
“What look?”
“The one that makes me forget my own name.”
I grin, leaning closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “That’s okay, baby, you can scream mine.”
Nice.
That was quick. 8 out of 10.
She nudges my chest, playfully shaking her head before stepping past me toward the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah,” I say, watching her move, sunlight chasing her across the floorboards.
The smell of coffee fills the kitchen, rich and dark, winding through the air.
I lean against the counter, mug in hand, pretending to drink just to give myself something to do. Truth is, I’m watching her. Every small thing. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear,how she holds herself, and occasionally I may eye her thigh gap… those fucking clothes are a distraction.
We should make her take them off.
Slowly.
When did the calm change its meaning for me? When did craving noise to fill the void shift into leaning into the serenity…just being.
