“It does,” he agrees.
Neither of us rushes to define the difference. His hand slides along my side, slow and deliberate, like he’s checking in with me without asking. I lean into his hand, and that is his answer.
His mouth brushes my shoulder, not quite a kiss, but still all-consuming. It sends a slow heat through me, familiar and new all at once.
“Sam …” I say softly.
He stills for half a second. Then pulls back enough to look at me again.
“I know, baby, I got you,” he says. And I know he means it in every way.
“You always say that,” I murmur with a smile.
“Because I mean it,” he replies.
Then I shift closer, closing the space between us fully. His hand tightens slightly at my waist. The look in his eyes turns darker, hungrier, and my body reacts instantly.
I press a kiss to his chest and arch my back, bringing my hips to his. His breath catches, just barely, as the tension in our bodies starts to build. For a second, the whole world narrows to us, this moment.
“I got you,” he repeats, softer this time as he rolls us over so he’s on top. We have done this dance countless times. Before, we would’ve fallen into our desire for each other fast, let it all consume us and blur everything else.
Now, we don’t rush a moment. He looks into my eyes as he lifts my sleep shirt, trailing kisses down my stomach.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. We both freeze. I let out a small, annoyed exhale and reach for it without breaking eye contact.
“Please don’t be bad,” I mutter.
Sam huffs a quiet laugh. “You always assume it is.”
“Because lately, it has been.” I glance at the screen and give an annoyed sigh.
“Bad?” Sam asks, already rolling over on his side, looking at me.
“Vanessa,” I say, reading the message. “She’s asking if we’re still going to the fair. Well, asking might not be the right word.” I show him my screen.
Nessa
Just because you have your hot hubby back in your bed and were at the police station yesterday DOES NOT mean you get to skip out on the fair.
Sam’s hand shifts on my waist, leaning to read the texts, laughing at the absurdity.
“The fair,” he repeats.
“Mmhm.” I set the phone back down, but don’t move away from him. “Normal people things.”
“Normal couple things,” he says.
Somewhere outside, I can hear a lawn mower starting up, the world moving on like the last few days never happened.
I smile. The kind we almost lost. “It is.”
We lie there for another second, not rushing this moment. I take a breath, then push myself up slightly, brushing my lips against his before I pull away.
“Come on,” I say softly. “Let’s go be normal.”
His hand catches mine before I can get too far away and pulls me back in.
“Hey,” he says. There’s something there, a vulnerability Sam rarely shares.
