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I also smiled every time I saw her hauling in yet another box from the apartment because she’d found something she couldn’t live without. Part of me was hoping I’d start to be one of those things.
“It was cool,” she admitted, hanging her purse on the hooks by the door. My keys hung on the next hook. Both sat under a framed picture from our wedding. The flight attendants caught our post-cupcake kiss on camera before it turned less-than-chaste, and I treasured the picture.
It might be all she left me with come February.
We’d been married seven weeks, which meant in just another two, I’d buy another dozen red velvet cupcakes, just like I had last month. She’d laughed, but turned oddly quiet when I told her I only had six months of anniversaries to celebrate with her, so I was going to make sure she’d savor every one.
But tonight, that armor she wore around her heart cracked a little. She took me out. Took me to do something she thought I’d enjoy even though she had no interest. For the first time since I slid that ring on her finger in Vegas, I began to hope.
She pulled a pint of ice cream from the freezer, took a spoon from the drawer, and jumped back so she sat on the kitchen island. Her tan legs held all of my attention against the white granite as she adjusted the dress she was wearing.
“So how are you feeling about that C?” she asked before spooning a bite of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey.
“I’d feel a lot better if it came with a cohesive team,” I answered, moving to stand in front of her. The kitchen lights danced off the diamonds on her left hand as she swirled the spoon for another bite.
“You’ll get them there.” She held out the spoon, and I leaned forward, taking the offered bite. “Practices are already going better, at least from what I can tell.”
“We lost five out of seven preseason games.”
She shrugged. “Preseason doesn’t matter.”
“It will if the trend continues. They’re so busy picking each other apart that they can’t pull it together.” I took another offered bite, savoring the sweet chill.
“They will. First home game is tomorrow night. I bet they step up. At least, I really hope they do. There’s some real talent on that team.” She licked her lower lip before taking a bite for herself, then looked at the counter with a puckered brow.
“Me, too. I’d hate for the season to be over before it even begins.” I followed her line of sight. “What are you searching for?” The kitchen was huge, and the island was no exception, but there wasn’t a speck on the granite.
“I was just thinking that Faith was right. The counters are a perfect height. Plus, you’re a little taller than Lukas.” She shoved another bite of ice cream between her lips.
My eyebrows rose. “Perfect height for? I mean, counters are counters, right?”
“No, these feel a little higher, which is perfect for someone as gigantic as you are.” She pointed the spoon up and down my body before stabbing another bite and holding it out.
I leaned in and took it, then watched my wife’s eyes track the movement of my mouth.
Counters. Right. It all clicked, and I would have laughed if I wasn’t already so turned on from having been out with her all evening.
I gripped her upper thighs and separated them, then stepped between her knees when she gasped.
“Uh...hi?” She looked up at me, and her pupils flared.
Taking hold of her hips, I pulled her to the edge of the counter, and she opened her thighs wider to accommodate my hips. There were too many layers of fabric separating us between my jeans and her dress, but I got the point, and by the way her lips parted, she felt exactly where my erection hit her.
“Yep, perfect height,” I whispered. “You’re absolutely right.”
Her breath left in a shaky sigh. “Right. I mean, if I believed in kitchen sex. Which I don’t.”
“You don’t?” My thumbs traced the line where her thighs met her hips. How could she not when I was literally between her legs? I could be inside her with a few quick motions, and at this angle, she’d enjoy every damned second.
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “I’m down for every other room, but this one? I mean, we prepare our food here. I bleach this counter almost every day.”
“I can hire someone to bleach the counters.” I tugged her closer, so she was right against me, and nearly groaned. Keeping my hands off her for these last seven weeks had been almost impossible.
“Not the point.” She completely voided her statement by wrapping her legs around my waist, locking her heeled ankles behind my back. Fuck, I wanted to feel them against my ass as I drove into her. Every single day my control frayed just a little more, and at this point, it felt like I was barely hanging on by a thread. And I wasn’t against sex. I loved sex. But I wasn’t letting her think this was just sex, and she still hadn’t gotten that point yet.
