As usual, he immediately becomes the most affectionate man on earth right after he comes. He’s kissing my ear, brushing my hair out of my face. Gripping me close and sliding us off the bed.
He falls backwards and I fall with him, his back lands on the floor and my back lands on his chest. He slips out of me and everything he’s left behind starts dripping down my leg.
We’re panting, fighting for breath.
I’m about to make some joke, some sillyAnd we’re back, baby!comment. But his chest is stuttering underneath me. I try to turn and see what’s happening back there but he pins me in place with his arms.
“Words, Vin!” I demand, because if he’s not going to let me see his face, I have to know what the hell is going on.
“Just…happy.”
And now, not even his arms can stop me. I spin and holdhim. Our sweaty, twisted, wrinkly clothing is an impossibly annoying impediment, but I don’t want to unhand him to remove anything.
“I…” he continues once I’ve got my face pressed to his neck. “I was so lonely without you.”
I kiss him with no tongue. It feels like a hug, a look-at-what-we’ve-been-through kiss. I give him another. A look-at-us-now kiss.
I try to move, to cuddle him more, but my jeans constrict me. Sweat trickles down my back and Vin trickles down my leg.
“Ugh. God.”
He’s laughing.
“Good thing you fixed the washing machine,” I grumble.
“Almostfixed the washing machine,” he corrects.
“Ohno.”
Now he’s laughing even more. Probably at the genuine horror and concern on my face. “You take a shower. I’ll finish it up real quick and get our clothes in the washer.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m just rinsing the last of the shampoo out of my hair when the bathroom door opens. I freeze.
“I’m naked, Vin!”
There’s a pause. “I…assumed?”
“No, I mean that…my scar…”
The shower curtain comes back. “That’s okay. Thanks for reminding me.”
Vin steps in. He’s one of those men that somehow look bigger when naked. He’s quickly wetting himself down and then crowding me back under the water, where it’s warm. He’s got my back against the wall again and he doesn’t waste time, dropping to his knees and putting one of my legs over his shoulder.
Vin has always been really into this. Going down on mewell after the sex is said and done. He says it’s when I’m silkiest. He says it’s when I’m sweetest. He says he doesn’t like to be rushed. He says—
“Fuck.”
Yeah, he saysfucka lot (when we fuck).
I say it a few times, too. For good measure. He’s tongue-kissing me down there, petting, soothing. His way of saying thank you, I think, for making my softest place take all that passion. He takes a long, gentle time and then I’m whispering his name into the curls of steam, gripping his hair, balancing against his shoulders, shaking with tension and then with release.
I’m pudding by the time he comes back to his feet. I’m pudding and he’s smiling.
“You need a nap,” he decides, and dunks his head under the spray.
“I need a honeymoon. With my hot husband.”
He’s still smiling. “Go. Sleep for a minute while the laundry finishes.”
