He’s definitely tense, but he’s not annoyed or angry. His eyes are moving all over my body in a way that’s almost hungry.
“Oh,” I say, my mouth making the same O as the sound I make.
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and takes a loud, ragged breath.
“Do you need to get in here to… do that?”
“I didn’t,” he says thickly. “But now I do. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I set down my brush and walk out of the bathroom so I’m standing in front of him. I need to see him better to figure out what’s happening here.
My body is getting kind of tense and throbby too, the way it does when I want to rub myself.
“I heard you,” he mutters, that same gruff texture in his voice. “This morning.”
My cheeks burn but not in a bad way. In an excited away. “I’m sorry. I can be quieter.”
“I don’t want you to be quieter. But I didn’t know… I didn’t know you…” He rubs his face with both hands, clearly frustrated with himself for being unable to get the sentence out. “I didn’t know you wanted that.”
“Oh.”
“If you do, and since I do too, we can… we can… if you want.” It appears to have taken a massive effort for him to say this. He stares down at the floor when he’s done.
I shake internally and tighten my hands at my side as I process that thrilled whirling in my mind. “You want to have sex with me?”
His head shoots up. “Course I do. Why the hell do youthink I gotta resort to my hand at least a couple of times a day.”
This makes me giggle. “I thought maybe it was just… general. Just the way you were. I didn’t know it wasmeyou were… So youdowant to have sex with me? Not just because we’re married but because of me?”
His breathing has picked up again. His brown eyes are hot and hungry. “Yes. I want to have sex with you. Because of you. Can’t seem to think of anything else lately, if you want to know the truth.”
“Oh.” That’s the third or fourth time I’ve said that, so I should really stop. “I want to have sex with you too.”
“Yeah?” He sucks in another hoarse breath. “Because of me?”
“Because of you.”
I see the admission process on his face. “Okay. Good. I gotta clean up before we do, but you can go to my bed if you want. Or we can do it later if you’d rather?—”
“I’ll go to your bed and wait.” I’m smiling over my shoulder as I walk to his room.
Since I did laundry this morning, his bedding is all fresh and clean. The bed is twice the size of mine, so there’s plenty of room for both of us in it. I know he always sleeps on the right side because that’s where the sheets are always wrinkled and the pillow indented. So I climb into the leftside of the bed and lie down, getting both nervous and even more excited as I hear the water run in the bathroom.
It doesn’t take him long to get ready. He comes back into the bedroom wearing nothing but his underwear.
“Is that what you sleep in?” I ask him, genuinely curious.
“Usually. Unless it’s really cold outside.” He glances down at himself. “Do you not like it?”
“I do like it.” I should be self-conscious about admitting this, and maybe I am. But I’m also too jittery to stop myself. “I like how you look without clothes on.”
“You do?” He looks down at himself again like he’s surprised.
I more than like how he looks. It makes me all pulsey beneath my belly. His broad shoulders. Long arms and legs. The dips and curves of his muscles. The hair on his arms and legs and chest and a glimpse of more beneath his underwear.
Speaking of his underwear, there’s a noticeable bulge there.
That must be a penis.
