So. Cute.
My head tilts. “Yes?”
“Would… you like to go first?” she asks, nearly whimpering in her stress.
I wait one, two, three counts before dropping my hand and shrugging. “If you wish, my princess.”
Her entire body relaxes, and I laugh.
She blinks, lashes fluttering before the lightbulb above her head burns bright. “You were teasing me!” she accuses, sputtering a laugh.
“Who? Me?” My hand hits my chest, and I gasp.
Her giggles fill the air, half amusement and half relief. “You’re a menace,” she compliments.
I grin. “Would you like to take notes?”
Her lips tip down. “I didn’t bring my notepad.”
I stand, dip my hand into one of the baskets taking up space on the bookshelves, and withdraw a pad of paper and two pens—black and blue.
She perks up. “For a man who doesn’t do lists, you sure are prepared.”
“I am married to a woman who loves them,” I reply, offering her my treasures.
“She must think you a very good husband.”
My hand covers her wrist before she can pull it away, and I lay a kiss on her pulse. “She’s had but a taste of the joys I wish to bring to her,” I murmur against her skin.
Her heartbeat quickens under my lips.
“You mean to make me perish,” she whispers, slipping her hand from my grasp.
“I mean to make you weep,” I reply, surveying her response. When her breathing only shallows, I continue. “I mean to make you squirm, and want, and beg. I mean to make you ask for what you want and then I mean to make you take it. I mean to make you love me with every fiber of your being, with every cell that you have in you, and then I mean to make that love so consuming that you can think of nothing without it leading back to me. I mean to have you obsessed, my love—my princess—and I mean to have you beside me, gleefully taking part in the things I do that some might call wicked, but we know are for the good. I mean to live life with you in every way that I can, and to have you fulfilled in every way that you can be.” I glance at the notepad in her lap, untouched. “Those are my goals, love, if you’d like to write them down.”
Her chest heaves with her next breath. “I think I’ll remember them.”
I keep my eyes on hers for as long as she can bear before I nod, sit back, and sip my tea. “Very good,” I murmur. “That’ll be your turn, then.”
Her teacup clatters against its saucer as she lifts it for a drink. Once she’s delayed her turn sufficiently, she returns the cup to the table. Grabbing the papers she’s hidden behind her, she shifts, straightening her back.
Her blush blooms brighter as she glances at whatever enticing things she’s written down, and she shuffles until her top page is now at the back.
My eyebrows rise.
“My goals are,” she recites, “mutual care and respect, consideration for one another, supporting each other, clear communication…” She goes on, naming several more core foundation pieces for a healthy relationship, then ends her list with, “and a pet.”
I take a bite of my cucumber sandwich while I consider her desires—the ones she’s said and the ones she can’t bring herself to admit.
Chapter Fourteen
?
Sarelia
He’s not saying anything. I listed out my goals like a robotic dummy after he gave me his passionate, caring, pulled-from-the-heart goals, and now he’s saying nothing. He’s just… looking. And eating his sandwich. And…
And I think my skin is going to split open, severed by my nerves.
