“That was willingly.”
“You willingly want to see me naked?” I tease.
She grumbles under the blanket, sinking further into the bed.
“If you don’t wear clothes right now, I will call your mom.”
“She might start celebrating, thinking she is going to be a grandmother.”
She throws a pillow at me, and her foul aim lands it directly at my crotch.
“Oh fuck.” I sit down, clutching myself. Fuck me.
“What?”
“Aisha, you could have just said no to having babies with me. You didn’t need to permanently damage me.”
She lowers the blanket from her face, and the agony on mine makes her laugh. She actually rolls over in a laughing fit, and while I would have loved nothing more than to bask in the warmth that brings me, my balls were hurting explicitly.
“I would love to know what’s so funny,” I glower.
“Oh, I am sorry,” she says, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “Just the look on your face.”
I glare at her, getting up when I find the courage to and when it doesn’t hurt to move an inch and grab my pajamas from the closet.
I don’t say a word, and she purses her lips shut, her face red, and when I have finally come back to my senses, I can’t help but smile. For the first time, she laughed like her old self. The carefree one.
I keep a stern face when I come out, and she bats her eyes at me innocently.
“I am sorry,” she says seriously this time.
“You hurt me,” I say, faking it, and she sees right through me.
“So,” she tilts her head. “Did I hurt you enough to make you not have sex anymore?”
I narrow my eyes, taking slow steps towards her, and I see the courage falter from her eyes, but she puts on a good show of keeping it together.
“Really?” I say, towering over her, and she sinks further into bed, her big brown eyes staring right up at me innocently, patiently. “You want me to show you what I can still do?”
I grip her waist, bringing her closer to me, and she gasps. I lower my face to her level, my lips just inches away from hers, and she gulps hard, her eyelashes fluttering.
“You want to check yourself?”
My breath hits her lips, and she opens her mouth to say something—probably to defy me—and I move away from her, giving her space to breathe.
She glares at me, and I grin.
Tit for tat.
“You know,” she says, crossing her arms at her chest. “I sometimes wonder how you convinced me to be with you, with that cocky attitude of yours.”
“Oh, please,” I say, lying down beside her with my hand supporting my head. “You love my cocky attitude. You love so many things about me.”
She lies down beside me, and I can’t express in words how much I missed this. Our fun conversations, our banter, the closeness between us. It has always been so natural.
Why the fuck did I ignore my wife for so long?
“Enlighten me,” she says. “What all do you think I loved about you?”
