“You’re going to dry my hair?”
“Part of the pampering. Aurora suggested I grovel on my knees.”
Elizabeth cheekily pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “That would be fun to watch.”
I kiss her puckered, pink nipples because they’re just too pretty, then I kiss her lips. “Groveling won’t be the only thing I’ll be doing on my knees, Kitten,” I tell her and turn on the blow dryer.
I can feel her hum of contentment as I comb through her hair with my fingers, making sure to dry each strand evenly. The act of taking care of her like this, something as simple as drying her hair, completes me in a way I never thought possible.
When I’m done, she slides off the vanity and goes into the bedroom. “Are you staying tonight?”
She grabs one of my button-down dress shirts I left draped over the back of the armchair and puts it on, pushing each button through its buttonhole, but leaving the last two undone. The hem hits below her knees and hangs loose on her slender frame, and the sleeves hang past her hands. She rolls up one side past the wrist, then the other. Seeing her wearing my clothes is as erotic as seeing her with nothing on.
“Only if you want me to stay.”
There’s a flicker of hesitation when she glances at the bed, a silent war waging inside her. “I want you to stay.”
Knowing this aspect of our relationship needs to be walked with baby steps, I take her hand and brush a thumb stroke over her knuckles. “Movie?”
Relief lifts the worry from her eyes.
The house is quiet, except for the occasional clatter in the kitchen as dishes are being put away. Settling on the couch, I tug her down beside me and grab the remote from the coffee table.
“Preference?”
She folds her legs under her and tucks into my side, my arm around her, her hand resting lightly on my chest. “Something violent with lots of action and blood.”
“Woman after my own heart.”
I barely pay attention to the television screen when theJohn Wickmovie starts playing. My focus is solely on Elizabeth.
However, the quiet doesn’t last long.
Charlotte, Grant, and Christopher appear, stopping at the entryway arch. When he sees what we’re watching, Chris joins us on the couch.
“If it’s that one with the guy who holds up the poster boards, I’ll pass,” Charlotte says.
Elizabeth chuckles. “It’s not that one.”
“Keanu,” Chris says. Apparently, that’s all Charlotte needs to hear.
“Scoot over.”
Chris vocalizes his annoyance but makes room for her and Grant, who nervously glances at me before taking a seat at the far end of the sofa.
“I can’t watch the part with the dog.” Charlotte hides her face in Grant’s shoulder.
Chris’s head falls back on his neck with a dramatic groan. “It’s thirty seconds of sadness for two hours of awesomeness.”
“That scene is emotionally scarring to dog lovers.”
“It serves as the catalyst for the entire story. That’s the whole point,” he argues. “Grant, back me up.”
“I’m not getting in the middle.”
“But you will to defend my honor because I’m your girlfriend,” Charlotte replies.
“Uh…” Grant gives Chris a helpless look.
