Her smile dazzled me. She grabbed my face and kissed me. “I’m having the best time. I love you.”
“Love you too, Babe.”
No sooner had I shut her door than a shout broke across the lot.
“Hey! What are you doing with my truck?”
My eyes flew wide open. I bolted around the back, yanked open the driver’s door, and launched myself behind the wheel.
“Hurry!” Michelle yelled, smacking the dashboard like that would help. “Go! Go! Go!”
“Okay, disco queen,” I said, throwing her in reverse. “Time to go home.”
Tom rounded the front just as I backed out, his golf club swinging into the bumper with a loud whack. “You piece of shit! That’s my truck! I bought it!”
“File a complaint with the Department of Kiss My Ass!” I shouted back, grabbing a lone white golf glove from the cup holder and chucking it out the window. “And thanks for the tune-up, man—she’s purring like a kitten!”
The tires screeched as we fishtailed out of the lot, Tom’s curses growing smaller and sadder in the rearview mirror.
Michelle’s fingers dug into my thigh, and she laughed so hard that tears streaked down her cheeks. “We’re actually doing this!”
“Damn right we are. Guess crime really does pay.” I glanced at her—that wild glow in her eyes, her loose hair whipping through the cab—and for one electric second, we were nineteen again, tearing down the freeway with the Shaggin’ Wagon leading us home.
“I kinda feelsorry for whoever lives in our old apartment,” I said, as I turned the sheets down on our bed. We’d arrived home an hour ago, and now both my truck and Michelle’s car were safely parked in the driveway. “Not only have they probably gotten a visit from Marty, but very shortly some dude in knickers and argyle socks is going to show up with a three-iron at their door, demanding his stolen truck back.”
“Oh, no,” she said, climbing into bed. “Do you think he’ll bring his little white glove? Because that’s when he gets really scary.”
I laughed, crawling over the bed and attacking her wicked neck with kisses. “You’re mean. I love it.”
She grabbed my face, peppering my face with kisses. “And you’re hot when you’re a little bad.”
“How bad do I have to be to get you to sleep with me?” I asked, kissing her with a lingering promise of mischief.
“Hmm… Whattaya got for me?”
“Well, I could leave the toilet seat up and pretend I don’t know who did it. Or I could throw my socks near the hamper. Notin. Near.”
“Diabolical.”
“That’s right. Or if I really wanted to get you going, I’d useyour fancy shampoo. The expensive one you hide behind the conditioner.”
“Oh, my god, baby, you’re so bad. You must ravish me now.”
I laughed, the sound rumbling low in my chest as I captured her mouth again, deeper this time, the teasing banter dissolving into something hungrier. We’d always met in this space, where a simple joke could generate an electric pull that kept our marriage humming. I adjusted carefully over her, mindful of the swell of her belly, not wanting to press too hard, but damn if it didn’t make me want her even more, the way she glowed with it all.
Her hands slid up my back, her fingers digging in just enough to send sparks racing through me, and I responded by trailing my lips along her jaw, down to the sensitive spot below her ear that always made her breath hitch. She arched into me and a soft sound escaped her, fuel to the fire building inside me. I loved this, the way our bodies fit together, even now, with her movements a little slower, a little more cautious. No rush, just that slow burn that had me aching.
I pulled back just enough to tug at her shirt, helping her out of it before shedding my own clothes in a hurry, the cool air of the room doing nothing to temper the heat flooding my veins. When I settled over her again, I took my time, kissing a path across her collarbone, then her breasts, feeling her tremble beneath me. Her legs wrapped around my hips as best they could, drawing me closer. When I entered her, she gasped, her eyes fluttering closed, lips parting in that expression of desire that still took my breath away after all these years.
I moved with her, inside her, our bodies becoming one in that perfect, instinctive rhythm we'd honed over years. Her soft moans guided me, each one sending electricity down my spine. The world narrowed to just us—her fingers pressing into my shoulders, her back arching to meet me, the way she whisperedmy name like a plea. I watched her face, memorizing every flicker of pleasure, every catch in her breath that told me she was climbing higher.
Tension coiled tight in my core, building with the slide of skin against skin, the shared breaths growing ragged, every gasp that mirrored my own rising need. I held her close, one hand cradling her side, the other tangled in her hair, losing myself in her. When she finally shuddered beneath me, her release triggered my own, and the wave crashed over us both. I rested my temple to hers as our breathing slowed, our bodies still joined, pulses echoing between us. I rolled to the side, pulling her into my arms, careful not to jostle her. For a moment, we just lay there, tangled in the sheets, the quiet of the house settling around us.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“About the night we met.” I rose on one elbow and brushed a strand of hair from her face, my thumb tracing her cheek. “At the lookout.”
“Oh, I remember well. How optimistic you were.”
