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I pick a movie from the on demand service and hit play, then kick off my shoes to get comfortable while she's sitting on the other end of the L-shaped couch with a throw blanket over her.
"What?" she asks, catching me looking at her. "Popcorn?" She holds the bowl out to me.
"No, you said you wanted to cuddle on the couch."
"I did. And I am."
"You can't cuddle yourself."
She blinks at me, midchew.
"Get over here, then." I snap my fingers and motion for her to come closer.
"What?"
"Get over here and do it right."
She scoots over until she's about a foot away from me. "Better?" she asks.
I pull her closer. "Stop acting like I'm contagious or something."
"Sorry. I didn't know if you wanted me on top of you."
Raising an eyebrow at her, I reach into the bowl and take a handful of popcorn. "I can't wait to get you on top of me, baby. Anytime you're ready, just hop on."
"Everything with you goes back to sex. You're like that Kevin Bacon movie game."
"No idea what that is, babe. I'm just trying to enjoy a movie with a chick properly."
A smile lights up her face. "Am I really your first real movie date?"
"You are. You're my first wife too. I see why you wanted to skip the dating part of a relationship. You're not very good at it from what I can see."
"Look who's talking."
I put the popcorn bowl on the coffee table and stretch my legs out across the couch, pulling her so she's half lying on top of me. She rests her head on my chest and turns so she can still watch the movie, and after a few minutes, her hand slowly creeps from my wrist up to my bicep. "I guess these don't wash off?" she muses, tracing my tattoos.
"Nope."
"They're kinda cool close up. There's so much more detail than I noticed before." Her hand travels farther, pushing the fabric of my T-shirt up so she can inspect my shoulder, and I like how it feels to have her touching me so softly, her fingertips delicately gliding over the designs.
"Thanks. I saw you have that little one on your shoulder. What is that, a comma?"
"It's a semicolon."
"It's cute."
Her hand stops moving. "It's not supposed to be cute."
"Okay…sorry."
Her body tenses up and a sad quietness overcomes her that's thick like fog. Her eyes stay on the TV, but I can tell she's not really watching it and is somewhere else in her mind. I'm assuming it's got something to do with that tiny mark gracing her shoulder. I can fully respect that, though. Lots of ink has a special meaning to people that may also be attached to not-so-good memories, like the one I have on my leg of a tiny teddy bear in memory of my five-year-old niece who passed away. I like knowing it’s there, but I don’t want to tell people what it means to me because it dredges up too many sad memories.
I relax into the couch and wrap my arm around her, slowly rubbing her back as we watch the movie. She snuggles deeper into me, pulling the blanket up over us, while the cat sleeps on the top of the couch above our heads. The feeling of closeness is so foreign to me, having a woman's body entwined with mine, touching but not touching, fully clothed but still so warm and close. It feels nice, to know she’s not waiting for me to start doing a sexual performance on her based on rumors she’s heard about me. I can just relax and touch her however I want, with no expectations. It’s equally as nice that she seems content just lying in my arms and doesn’t feel like she has to prove something to me by gobbling on my dick.
I could possibly like this.
Chapter 14
Asia
"Hey…" His voice rouses me awake and I blink, hearing the thump, thump of his heart beneath my head resting against his muscular chest. As I sit up, his hand slowly slides down to the small of my back and rests there.
"You kinda did the whole movie thing wrong," he teases. "It helps if your eyes stay open."
Eek. So embarrassing. "I'm so sorry I fell asleep."
"It's okay. I may have dozed off a little too."
"I haven't been sleeping well the past few weeks. Worried and excited about the wedding and all."
He yawns and stretches his arms out. "I guess we should go to bed. I told the Realtor we'd meet her at eight."
"Yikes. I'm not good at mornings."
"Yeah, me neither. We'll get coffee. You drink coffee?"
"Yes. With soy."
"Hmm. I'll let you order your own 'cuz I'm bound to screw that up the first few times."
While he brings the popcorn bowl to the kitchen, I fold up the blanket, apprehension buzzing through me about getting into bed with him. Lying with him on the couch during the movie was really nice, but moving into an actual bed is freaking me out a little.
"You coming?" he asks from the doorway.
I swallow hard. "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute. I just have to brush my teeth."
"All right. If you need anything, just hunt around the bathroom or yell if you can't find it. I won't be much help, but yell anyway."
I nod and flick off the television. "Okay. Thanks."
As I stare at my reflection in the mirror while brushing my teeth, the puppyfuck comment floats through my head.
Un-put-together.
Puppyfuck.
Charity case.
I'll take sticks and stones any day over these words. Words do hurt. They echo in your mind, then bounce off your brain before falling down the hole into your heart to slowly leak into your gut, eating at you slowly over time.
Bug-eyes.
Ghettogirl.
Trailer trash.
Those childhood names cut deep, and these new ones aren't much better.
My shiny sparkle.
I try to focus on Kat's nickname for me, which is the only nice, affectionate nickname I've ever had.
"You okay in there, jelly bean?" His finger taps on the door.
A small smile touches my lips. Well, up until yesterday. Now I have a new nickname, and I kind of like it.
"I'll be right out," I say around my toothpaste-rabid mouth.
I rinse and spit then brush my hair. What am I supposed to wear? Wha
t the hell do you wear to bed with your new, stranger husband when you want him to be attracted to you but you don't want to lead him on?
I go out in the hall and tiptoe down to the guest room where my suitcase is.
"Wrong room!" he yells from the master bedroom.
"I'll be right there!" I yell back, giggling.
I dig through my suitcase and pull out a pink tank top and a pair of black boy shorts. These should do. Comfy and cute with a dash of sorta sexy…but not slutty.
I think.
"Christ, it's almost morning. What have you been doing?" He groans when I enter the dark room. There's a nightlight on in the corner, throwing a bluish glow onto the bed, which he's already in, the sheet and comforter pulled up to his waist. All I can see is muscle and ink on his upper torso against the white sheets.
"Asia."
"Hmm?" I chew my lip as I stand next to the bed. Damn Dr. Hollister! This is so freaking awkward.
"Get in here."
"Are you naked?"
"I can be."
"Talon! No."
"I have boxers on. Jesus, what’s wrong with you?"
"This is just uncomfortable."
He sighs. "You gotta get over it. I'm not gonna try to bone ya, okay? I'm too tired. I'm exhausted from my first movie date."
I slowly crawl into the bed next to him and pull the sheet up over my chest. "Wow, when you say it so romantic like that, I can barely wait 'til it happens."
He rolls over onto his side so he's facing me. "I'm gonna rock your world someday soon, baby. Don't worry."
"Like a puppy?"
"You'll never let that go, will you?"
"Probably not."
"I didn't say it to hurt you. It just came out. And I meant it as in, you're really cute."
"That's really not helping me feel better."
Suddenly he bolts up. "Did you feel that?" he whispers loudly.
"What?"
"Something jumped on the bed. Is that fucking cat on my bed?"
I sit up too, and there's Princess Pixie, curled up at the foot of the bed.
"Yes. She sleeps with me every night."
"No way. I hafta draw a line here."
A line? "What line?"
