“Yara?” I called again, adrenaline readying me for whatever or whoever.
When I got to the kitchen entryway, I found evidence of rummaging. Boxes of cookies, bags of chips, and an empty pickle jar on the kitchen island. A half-full glass of water and an empty mug of coffee. My heart rate slowed a little, seeing the telltale signs of a woman with late-night cravings. I didn’t feel completely satisfied until I entered the living room.
And there she was, lounging on our L-shaped sofa with a yogurt cup in one hand and her laptop resting in her lap. She wore noise-cancelling headphones that covered her ears, so she had zero awareness of my heavy steps.
I took a deep breath, lingering in the living room’s entryway just to admire her for a second. Yara had tucked her hair under her favorite pink bonnet. The silk robe she wore hung off her shoulder, revealing her soft, dark brown skin. She slipped the spoon between her perfect lips, holding it there as she typed something up.
Six years. Six years with this woman and I still couldn’t stop feeling like I was so incredibly unworthy, yet wholeheartedly needy.
“Yara,” I said, more gently and understanding as I moved to the end of the couch.
She looked up, sensing movement in her periphery. Her eyes went wide for a second before realizing it was me. The smile that broke across her face set my skin on fire. I sat in front of her and gently tugged the headphones off. She set the empty yogurt cup aside, giving the spoon one final lick.
“You’re nervous.” I reached for the laptop, but she moved it away.
“I don’t get nervous,” she said, a teasing glint in her eye. “Why are you down here? Did I wake you?”
“No, but I wish you had.” I tried to grab the laptop again, and this time she didn’t put up a fight. “How long have you been down here?”
She shrugged. “Not long.”
“Your trail of snacks says otherwise.” I gestured for her to move over. She obliged, allowing me to sit next to her and wrap my arm over her shoulders. I pulled her to my side, kissing the top of her head a couple of times.
“What’s going on, baby?” I whispered and laughed as she elbowed my stomach.
“I wanted to work. Can a woman not work anymore?” She stretched her legs over mine, and I couldn’t resist helping myself. I brushed my hand up and down her skin. It was winter, and she always let her hair grow during the colder months, citing the need for extra warmth. I didn’t care what the reason was; I loved the soft bit of hair prickling across the palm of my hand. I loved that she could fully relax into me and understand I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Not when said woman has been working her ass off for the past month,” I said.
Yara worked for a children’s television production company as their Head of Communications. They were bringing on a new series this year. One that didn’t hold back on teaching kids about things like poverty, war, and mental health.
“Nothing you do in the next couple of hours will change the fact that this project’s going to be a total touchdown because of you,” I promised.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I kissed her temple. “Now, please, come back to bed. You know I can’t sleep unless you’re there.”
“You’re so needy,” she teased, smiling up at me.
I pulled her tighter into my chest. “I am. Desperate, too.”
“Desperate, you say?” She raised a brow, something brewing in that beautiful brain of hers.
“Don’t,” I warned, even though I loved it when she looked at me that way. Loved how her challenges made me want her even more. I’d do anything to make this woman smile. Crawl on my knees (check), beg (double check), offer her the sun, moon, and stars (triple check). I lifted her hand to kiss the ring on her finger. The shining sunstone that tied me to her from now to eternity.
She’s mine, I repeated, still trying to get used to the reality because I never thought this would happen. That Yara Every could fall for me as hard and deeply as I had fallen for her.
I kissed her hand again and then her wrist, right where her heartbeat drummed, and then her exposed shoulder.
“David,” she said. It’s supposed to be a warning, but her breathy sigh made it an anthem of desire.
“Yes?” I asked, trying to sound clueless as my hand cupped her cheek to turn her face to me. I kissed her, trying to melt away all her anxieties.
“I’ll go back to bed with you on one condition,” she said against my lips.
“Anything,” I promised, not even opening my eyes because I was so lost in her voice.
“Tell me who you were dating.”
