She exhales, long and slow, like her body’s already giving in. And whatever plans I had for pacing this weekend are already unraveling.
* * *
Room service smells like heaven. I wheel the cart in. Megan’s on the bed, robe half on, half off, hair loose now like she’s officially decided we’re not going anywhere tonight.
We carry plates straight to the bed. The TV’s on—some movie she picked. We carefully balance our plates on our laps, and I watch her take a bite and sigh like it’s the best chicken she’s ever had.
“This reminds me of our honeymoon.”
I smile. “Because of the food?”
“No,” she says. “Because we ate in bed. And watched movies. And couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.”
I lift a brow and smirk. “We were newlyweds.”
“We were feral,” she corrects, laughing.
I chuckle, reaching for a fry. “That first night…”
She groans softly, tipping her head back against the pillows. “Oh my gosh. Don’t.”
“You started it.”
She peeks at me, eyes bright. “I just remember thinking,Wow, this is not how the movies made it look.”
I laugh outright. “Yeah, well, you kept laughing.”
“I was nervous,” she defends. “And tired. And it was still good, just…awkward.”
“Awkward?” I grin. “You kneed me in the—”
“By accident!”
“Twice, sweetheart. Let’s not forget that.”
She laughs, nudging my shoulder. “Okay, fine. But look at us now.”
I glance down at her, robe slipping off one shoulder. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “We’ve figured a few things out.”
She hums, satisfied. “Practice helps.”
I smile and lean in, brushing my mouth near her temple. “We’ve sure done a lot of that.”
She laughs and shifts closer, her leg sliding over mine. The movie keeps playing, the glow from the TV washing over her face.
“You did good,” she says softly, tracing a slow line along my arm. “This. All of this.”
“I wanted you to feel…taken care of,” I admit. “No schedules. No expectations. Just us.”
She turns her head to look at me then. The teasing eases into something deeper, steadier. She sets her plate on her side table and then grabs mine, doing the same. My heart picks up, like it always does when she’s making the first move.
She grins playfully. “I always feel taken care of with you.”
That makes me feel good. My hand slides to her waist, thumbs brushing the tie of her robe—not pulling, just resting there—before I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Then closer to her jaw, then a little further, enough that she tilts her head just slightly for me to reach her neck.
The movie dialogue fades under the sound of our breathing.
“I love you,” I say against her skin.
