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I can feel a hot burn stinging my eyes that he even recognizes this or feels like it’s important. God, the people who look at him and only see the brutal monster he once was in football are missing the very best parts of this man. But I’m not. I see every bit of goodness, kindness, and gentleness in his heart.
“Probably as many dreams and fantasies as I had about it,” I confess. It’s the truth. So many of my teen imaginings were of this very thing. An entire night to revel in each other, to fall asleep in each other’s arms, and to wake in the morning to a sleepy-soft Bruce was something I wanted desperately.
He falls over me, pressing me to the bed as his mouth covers mine. Softly, he kisses me, stoking the fire between us, not with lighter fluid and a quick flash of ignition but with a slow burn, taking time to build the flames, caring for the embers until we both need more.
We strip bare, and Bruce hauls me up, laying my back against the pile of pillows as he kneels between my spread legs. “Goddamn, you look better than I ever imagined. So beautiful.” His eyes slide over me, a palpable caress, and though some small part of me is nervous about my body not being the younger version of myself he used to stare at hungrily, that inner wanton woman he brings out preens proudly as he groans in appreciation. It helps that his hand is stroking his hard, proud cock slowly as he looks at me, like he could get off just seeing me laid out like a feast for his eyes.
My eyes are drawn to that up and down movement, but I trace his entire thick body with my eyes too, appreciating the broadness of his shoulders, the V lines of his waist, the bumps of his abs, and every dip and bulge of muscle. I study not only the tattoo on his arm but the black linework on his chest, including a small, script MT. My heart breaks that he lost his mother and that I wasn’t here to love him through that, but I’m here now.
“Bruce —” I say, but he interrupts me.
“I’m going to take my time tonight.” His voice is deep and dark with promise as he makes that vow. One I know he’ll keep, one I want him to. I want to fall into this . . . whatever this is . . . with him.
It’s too fast, too crazy, too stupid, but damned if I don’t jump off the cliff anyway, trusting that he’ll catch me before I crash-land. But first, I want to enjoy the freefall, the flight with the wind through my hair and the air rushing up to buoy me like I’m floating. That’s what tonight is. The rest I can figure out later.
I’m going to luxuriate in him, let him indulge in me, bring that dream we both once had to reality because I think it’ll be better than we ever thought possible.
The night outside fades away until it’s only the two of us in existence—his lips on my skin, our fingers mapping each other’s body, and him filling a void inside me I didn’t even realize existed.
As we collapse, exhaustion overtakes us and one other piece of those younger dreams comes true as we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
It’s even better than I’d imagined.
I stir the eggs, adding a bit of pepper as they scramble. Bruce grabs two plates out of the cabinet, setting them next to me at the ready. The bacon’s crisped and the bread’s toasted golden brown, so I start making plates with those as Bruce grabs juice.
He’s half in the fridge when the front door opens and Cooper comes running in. “Mom, guess what I got! Mom!”
Time stops, freezing in an instant.
Distantly, I’m glad I’m not naked. Bruce and I had put on the barest stiches of clothing to cook when he pointed out that bacon grease is a known boner killer. I’d laughed and let him slip his shirt over my shoulders, and he’d pulled on his boxer briefs. Now, I’m so ridiculously grateful for the risk of splattering hot oil because otherwise, I’d be naked when my son comes in.
Bruce unfreezes first. “Hey, Cooper! What’d you get?” His voice is casual, but as I look over, I can see that he’s carefully examining both mine and Cooper’s reactions from behind the refrigerator door.
This is bad. Unbelievably so.
Mitigate. Mediate. Deescalate.
“Hey, honey! Yeah, what’d you get?” I echo, knowing my voice is too high-pitched.
Cooper’s looking from me to Bruce, though. He’s a smart kid, which scares the bejesus out of me right about now, especially given the question he asked before my date. “Did you come over for breakfast, Coach B? Uh, why don’t you guys have clothes on?”
