“That’s...” She laughed, breathless and delighted. “That’s very acceptable. That’s extremely acceptable. That’s—”
I kissed her.
Not to shut her up this time.
Just because I wanted to.
Because I was done denying myself this. Done pretending that precision and control were more important than the feeling of her lips against mine, the soft sound she made in the back of her throat, the way her fingers tangled in my hair.
When I pulled back, she was flushed and breathless.
“Upstairs,” I said. “Now.”
We barely made it through the door.
I had my keys out, my hand steady despite the adrenaline coursing through my system, my movements precise as I unlocked the deadbolt and the handle lock and pushed the door open.
And then Athena was pressed against me, her arms around my neck, her body warm and soft andrightagainst mine.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” she whispered against my mouth. “Since the moment I saw you.”
“I know.”
“The universe told me—”
“I know.”
“—that you were mine, and I was yours, and—”
I kissed her again, harder that time, backing her into the apartment and kicking the door shut behind us. My hands found her waist, slid up her sides, felt the curve of her ribs beneath the soft fabric of her dress.
This is happening. This is actually happening. I’m going to have sex with my wife.The thought should have terrified me. Should have sent me spiraling into analysis and planning and careful consideration of consequences. Instead, it just made me harder.
I walked her backward through the living room, past the chaotically rearranged furniture, past the unalphabetized bookshelves, into the bedroom where she had been sleeping for the past week while I took the couch like some kind of Victorian gentleman.
No more.
She fell back onto the bed with a soft laugh, her dark hair spreading across my white pillowcase, her dress riding up to reveal the smooth length of her thighs.
Beautiful. She is so incredibly fucking beautiful.
I stood there for a moment, just looking at her. Cataloging details the way I would catalog symptoms before a diagnosis: the flush on her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her pupils were dilated with arousal, the slight parting of her lips.
“Julien?” Her voice was uncertain. “Are you okay?”
“I’m memorizing you.”
“Oh.” she smiled. “That’s very you.”
“It is.”
I pulled off my tie, the silk one I had worn to dinner, now slightly askew from her fingers, and dropped it on the floor.
Athena’s eyes widened.
“You just... dropped your tie on the floor.”
“Yes.”
