I never pictured myself married, especially not after the fiasco with James.
And certainly not how Tomás and I went about it. Yet somehow, in all its unconventional ways, it just makes sense.Wemake sense.
“So, you’re okay with me dancing as your wife?”
“Absolutely,” he says without pause, or hesitation. “I want to take what we have and let it grow. I want to date you and learn everything there is about you.”
I can’t help but giggle at how amazing yet ass backwards this all sounds.
“What?”
“Nothing, it’s just a little funny, dating and getting to know your wife, that’s all.”
“Isn’t that the way it should be in marriage? To put that effort in to know the person you’re with? Just because we’re married, doesn’t mean the spark should die. Chances are we’re not going to be the same people we are today, twenty years from now. If we are, that’d be boring.”
“Trust me, life with me will be anything but boring,” I reassure him.
“I look forward to it.”
“I missed you,” I confess. More than he realizes.
“I missed you too.”
“And I’m sorry about Colorado.”
His brow drops. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“Your personal pitch that you weren’t able to do it.”
He cradles my face in his palm, bringing me in for a kiss.
Since he’s already on his knees, an idea sparks that I’ve always wanted to try but I never had anyone so willing to not only please me but allow me to be me.
I inch back a few more steps, creating more space between us.
Like a dog on a leash, he stays put, with his eyes on me, waiting for me to instruct him.
I’ll admit, the way he looks at me, with lust and admiration, feeds my ego as much as it does a much deeper part of me. The one he’s been pining over that’s been off-limits to just about everyone. And as good as it feels ,I don’t take it for granted. I do —and will— always cherish it, the way he cherishes me.
He drinks me in as I first strip free of my shirt, dropping it to the floor. The hunger in his gaze revs up as I unbuckle my bra, baring my pierced nipples to him.
I close the gap between where I stand and he is kneeled, getting close enough that when I toss my bra his way, he’s able to catch it.
And he does… with his mouth.
“Good boy,” I praise him.
He growls, clenching his jaw and keeping my bra locked between his teeth.
I curl my index finger as I walk slowly backward, working my way out of my leggings as I do.
“If you want me to stay your wife, I need you to put those knees to good use.”
“What do you have in mind, mama?”
“I want you to crawl to me,” I pant. I may be initiating this, but there’s still a vulnerability hanging in the air.
He juts his head to the other side of the room. “Well, what are you waiting for? If you want me to crawl, you gotta create some distance between us. Make me work for it.”
