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It feels silly and childish but also fun. Something I think I forgot how to do unless it was related to Cooper.
You’ve been having a lot of fun with Bruce.
I can hear the voice in my head teasing, but it’s right. I have had fun more fun in the last few weeks than in ages. Playing football, even though I suck at it, flirting, and just talking with him have all brought back this light inside me I hadn’t even realized was dim, barely flickering and on the verge of being snuffed out.
At the door, he bends forward so I can unlock it, and then he kicks it shut behind us. The house is quiet, the living room lamp on so the house doesn’t look deserted. Being alone behind a closed door suddenly feels full of possibility.
My sandals and the keys fall to the floor with a clunk, and I squeeze him tight between my thighs, wishing I were on his front instead of his back. I lean forward, my arms crossing over his chest, and whisper in his ear, “Down the hall.”
He angles his head, looking at me carefully. I can’t see myself, but I know my eyes are clear and bright. I’m sure. Of myself, of him, of this.
I point Bruce to the last door on the left, and he stops when he enters. I watch as his eyes scan my bedroom, and I wonder what he’s gleaning about me that he didn’t already know. I try to see it through his eyes—fluffy white comforter and enough pillows on the bed to give away my addiction to all things smooshy, a headboard I refinished myself with chalk paint and wax before deciding DIY was something I was never doing again, a white dresser with candles and knick-knacks I thought were pretty, and a cozy chair where I sit and read, usually for work but occasionally for fun.
“Pretty. Comfortable.” It’s just two words, but it’s my aesthetic to a T. It’s stupid, but I like that he gets it.
“You like it?” I ask, but my fingers are tracing the line of his trimmed beard along his neck.
“Love it. My room’s basically a place to crash. So I’m probably not the guy to ask for decorating advice.” He’s answering me, but at the same time, he’s tilting his head, giving me access to kiss his neck as his hands knead my thighs.
It strikes me as sad that he lives so casually. Nothing about Bruce has ever been casual. He’s always been full-throttle and had a plan—football, wife, farm, kids. Somewhere along the way, he got stuck too. I won’t be so narcissistic as to think it was because of me. He’s had enough other family drama going on, but we both petered out along the way, losing steam and settling into a rut neither of us saw coming.
Maybe he’s right? Could we somehow put right what went wrong all those years ago? That sounds crazy, but it doesn’t mean it’s not possible. Stranger things have happened, right?
He spins, dropping me onto the bed unexpectedly, and I bounce, laughing. He turns back, leaning over me and caging me between his arms as his fists dent the fluffy bedding. I feel pinned beneath his gaze, his heat, his intentions. But there’s not a bit of anxiety in my body. Instead, I feel safe . . . and needy.
“Cooper’s gone all night?” His voice is pure grit and sex.
I nod, on autopilot as my body simply yearns for his. Every cell inside me wants him, wants to be marked by him, wants to be possessed by him. That should be scary as fuck, but with Bruce, it’s not. Not at all.
Even that plan he always had, his expectations of what his life would be like, what our life would be like, should terrify me because that’s exactly where things started to go wrong with Jeremy. But deep inside, I know it’s different. Jeremy and Bruce are as different as night and day.
If you saw them side by side, you’d think big, rough Bruce would be the night, with its scary darkness, and Jeremy, with his pretty looks, would be the bright promise of each new day.
You’d be wrong. So very wrong.
Bruce is the light-bringer, the one who helped me grow up, reach higher for dreams I thought might be beyond my grasp. Jeremy is the one who put me into hibernation, a dormancy that shunted my progress as he savored my fading glow.
But the sun is back, and he’s looking at me with fiery need, daring me to reach for him again.
“Allyson, we’ve got all night, and as crazy as it sounds after everything we’ve been through, it’s our first time in a bed. Do you know how many dreams and fantasies I had of this? Let me worship you, let me love you. Please.” His voice is low and slow, so transparently hungry for me.
