“And? Why are you saying it like it’s not true? You do.”
“I don’t hate you, Brix. Ineverhated you.”
“You said you didn’t love me anymore. No, you said you couldn’tpretendthat you were in love with me.”
“That doesn’t mean I hate you. And when I said that, it was more for myself. I was trying to convince myself that I could move on from you.”
He huffs. “You didn’t need much convincing. You’ve lived it. We’ve lived apart for all of this year.”
“Yes, and it was the worst eleven months of my life. I just—” Tears spring out of my eyes. “I just wanted you to choose me.” I wipe the wetness away and say, “What does it take, Brix, for me to be more important to you than everything else in your life? I got tired of waiting. Tired of feeling like I meant nothing to you.”
“You mean the world to me, Cyn!”
“Yeah, and you left me in this house, alone. I don’t want this house, Brix. I want you.”
He frowns, places his hands on my face, and asks, “You want me?”
“Yes,” I say, more tears spilling down my face.
He says, “Wednesday evening, you were on the phone with somebody in the backyard. You said,I love you, too, and then hung up. Who were you talking to?”
More tears fall from my eyes. It didn’t occur to me until now that he thought I was talking to a man. Like there could ever be anyone to fill his shoes…
I say, “I was talking to my mother, Brix. There isn’t a man on this planet who could ever take your place.”
In an instant, his tongue finds the back of my throat before my back finds the bed. Now, these events are both occurring simultaneously as he hovers over me. Then he lowers his weight onto me and deepens the kiss. My body trembles with nervousness and need as he strokes my tongue with his.
Oh…
These lips.
This tongue.
These arms.
His heart.
He’s all mine.
I want him to know that I’m all his.
He pulls the string of the flimsy cotton robe I’m wearing and covers my breast with a hot, eager mouth, devouring me like he’s trying to get used to the taste of me again. He’s massaging the other like he forgot how my skin felt beneath his hands. My hands settle behind his head while he feasts. My heart fills with so much love that I think my chest might explode as I try to contain what he means to me.
He returns to my mouth, kissing me recklessly, making up for lost time. Somehow between the kisses, he manages to pull his shirt over his head. I see his beefy chest move in and out as quickly as mine is moving. Then he stands, unzips his jeans and removes his boxers, freeing himself. He crawls back to me, hisheaviness resting temptingly against my thigh while he looks at me.
“This isn’t a one-time thing for me, Cynnamon,” he says. “I love you. I want us. I need to know if you’re all-in with me on this.”
“Yes, Brix. I am.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, using his knee to move my legs apart.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
I grimace when I feel his thickness poking me. I used to be accustomed to him. Now, it feels like starting over. Feels like the first time we connected – our honeymoon night – when I was full of nerves and anxiety. It’s a good feeling to have years later, but something tells me I’m in for a rough night.
“Look at me,” he tells me.
When I lock eyes with him, he continues, “There’s no need to be nervous. Do I need to talk you through it like I did the first time we did this?”
