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“You brought me a gift?” Her head tips to the side like a puppy encountering something new. “Why?”
Why did I get her a present? Iwantto say because she’s my wife, but I can’t. She isn’t. And I still have to clarify that one little detail, even if I’ve been putting it off. I’m selfishly eating up every second we have together. I didn’t want to say something before I left. I don’t want to ruin this moment now that I’m back. The news that we didn’t actually take the legal steps to bind ourselves together doesn’t change the fact that we need the world—and our bosses—to think we did. And maybe a selfish part of me hopes that if I wait to tell her, her desire to stay with me, to make this work, will overpower the anger I know is going to arrow straight for me.
“Because I thought of you every minute while I was gone,” I say instead. “Because I counted seconds until that plane touched down.” I snake my hands into the mess of hair piled on top of her head and tip her head back. “Because I dreamed of your mouth.” My lips touch hers. “Your tits, your hips, your eyes, your heart.” I press my tongue into her mouth and kiss her, sucking her air and her taste into my soul.
Her arms slide up my chest, her wrists resting on my shoulders, and I help lift her higher so she can twine them around my neck. She sighs into my mouth, her tongue taking over the role of aggressor, twining around mine as she kisses me and kisses me. Until we’re not even kissing anymore, just panting, our lips still fused.
Tristan’s cheeks are flushed and I can feel the heat in mine, the tension in my abdomen as my dick stiffens in my pants. She’s hot against me, fire in my arms. Forget the gifts. Forget whatever, or whoever, is in the bathroom. Forget everything but how fast I can get this woman to come and then get inside her.
Thud.
“I missed you,” Tristan says, “and I want to open my present, but I don’t think yours is going to wait any longer.”
My present? She wriggles out of my arms and slides down my body. I bite back my groan at the friction over my desperate erection. The momentary distraction is enough to let her turn toward the bathroom door. And I bite back a snort at the sight that greets me. Plastered across the back of her sweatpants are the words “VIC’S CHICKS.”
“Nice ass,” I say, and this time I do laugh as she drops her hands to cover the curve of her butt.
“There was a fundraiser,” she says, like that explains everything. “They were selling Arctic gear to raise money for the youth hockey program.”
“Arctic gear that says Vic’s chicks?”
Her blush deepens. “As your wife, I figured that made me Vic’s number one chick. I had to support the cause.” And yet she still put them on tonight.
It’s cute. Adorable. It has my brain growling ‘mine’.While my animal instincts try to recover, she pushes open the bathroom door.
I’m looking at human height, not at the floor, so I miss the little black ball until it’s launched itself at me from the top of the sink. Tiny claws attach to the front of my shirt and my hand automatically comes up to cup the back end of a tiny kitten. It’s fuzz-soft and I can’t help stroking the line of its spine, feeling the bumps and grooves under my fingers. Narrowed green eyes look up at me, and it hisses even as it kneads my chest like I’m a ball of biscuit dough.
“A kitten?” My chest feels tight. “You got a kitten?”
“For you.” Tristan nods. “Well, I meant to get you a kitten. I think that’s some form of tiny demon. I’ve been calling her Hell Spawn as she’s attempted to destroy everything in this apartment.”
Come to think of it, the living room had looked a little disheveled. It was hard to notice anything other than Tristan.
“She?” I say as the kitten blinks slowly up at me, a tiny purr beginning to vibrate her whole body. “You didn’t have to do this, Tristan. She’s adorable, but I’m already imposing on your home and I know you aren’t comfortable with pets.”
“You told me that day at the shelter that you’d always thought about getting a cat. You’re allowed to ask for what you want, Vic. I’ve made all the decisions for us until now. Actually, adopting the demon was my decision too, but you’re allowed to have things you want.”
My eyes are burning, my throat feels sticky and thick with something I can’t quite swallow down. Because she’s right. Ididthink about getting a pet, especially after meeting Erik and Quinn’s fur babies. It just didn’t feel right when my mother would have ended up taking care of any animal I brought home. That felt like a decision that should include her, and she’s already taking care of the house when I should be taking care of her.
“You don’t mind her staying here?” I ask, because as much as I don’t want to inconvenience my mother, Tristan’s comfort is my priority. My latent desire for a pet will not stop me from making this arrangement between us permanent.
“If you try to take her away from me, I will end your family line.” She leans in and runs a single finger over the head of the tiny cat. A growl whines out past an itty bitty set of sharp fangs. “She’s a bitch, but I’m a bigger one. We have an understanding.”
I look past my fake wife into the destroyed bathroom. The blinds at the window are bent at a ninety-degree angle. Toilet paper has been unspooled and shredded. An assortment of bottles roll around the tile floor.
“Okay, well, wewillhave an understanding. She’s better when she has a run of the whole place, but I wanted to surprise you.”
Can she hear the way my heart is hammering in my chest? Can she read in the depths of my eyes how much I love her?
“It’s a great surprise, baby.” I lift the little kitty until she can curl up on my shoulder, settling against the warmth of my neck. Her purr is a rumble in my ear. Soothing like white noise.
I press a kiss to the top of Tristan’s head.
“Do you want your gift now?” I ask her and when she nods, I go back into the living room, kitten still perched on my shoulder, to grab the wrapped present.
“It’s not much,” I say as she carefully peels back the paper. “I just wanted you to have them.” Tristan pulls out the Arctic jersey with my name and number emblazoned across the back.I want my name on you, Tristan. I’d tattoo it on your forehead if you’d let me.
“Vic,” she’s smiling as she says my name. I want her to do it again. “Why are there six jerseys in here?”
