I tug one mitt free, thread my fingers through hers, and lift her hand to my mouth. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You needed it.”
She sways a little behind me, rocking gently. I close my eyes and let myself sit in it for a second longer than I would have a few weeks ago.
“I don’t like how tired you are all the time,” I murmur. “And you’re losing weight.”
She nods against my spine. “I know.” Her breath ghosts through my shirt, soft and uneven. “What are you cooking?”
“Something simple, just a rice dish.”
“Just something to stuff my mouth with?”
I wink. “I’ve got something else to stuff your mouth with.” We laugh, then I squeeze her shoulder. “I mean it, Robyn. You need to eat even when I’m not bringing you lunch.”
She lets out an exhausted sigh. “Sometimes, it’s necessary, baby. But it still sucks.”
“I can’t wait to take you away next weekend.” I turn without letting go of her hands, her forearms brushing the strip of skin exposed from my shirt riding up. “I’m going to feed you so well…”
I’m picturing the trip to House on the Rock we never took last year—since this program derailed everything for a year. I’m popping the question, though, upgrading her from girlfriend to fiancée. I’m so wrapped in it I almost missed the way she tensed in my arms.
“What?” I ask.
Her gaze drops. “Nate?—”
Of course. It happened again.
“Your schedule got switched.” I keep my voice neutral, but I can’t help how my shoulders sag the tiniest bit. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call and move the reservations. You’re scheduled for another free weekend in two weeks.”
“Actually, babe.” She looks up at me, pressing her lips together before speaking. “I think it might be less stressful if we just postpone until I’m done with the program.”
Something tightens in my chest. Not anger. Not surprise. The dull realization that I couldn’t even give her one weekend away from all of it. I get it, it’s temporary, and I don’t want her to feel guilty, so I nod. It’s not her fault I planned to propose over dinner at a fancy place nearTaliesin.
“You’re probably right,” I say, tracing slow, absent circles down her back. “Changing plans is hard on my job too. I’ll cancel that request to take Monday off.”
Her fingers tighten in my shirt.
“I was given this Saturday off, though,” she says quickly. “So we have Friday night.” She stands on her toes and presses a kiss to my lips. “And Saturday.”
I want it, I do. I want to let myself believe in it, but I also don’t want to set myself up for disappointment.
Still, I don’t stop her when she places her mouth on my throat, open and warm, drifting lower. Arousal takes over me as I wonder how much longer we won’t have even a couple of hours with each other every day, or if sex is the one thing holding us together. I shake my head, dropping my head to her shoulder to kiss and lick.
“Let me make it up to you,” she whispers.
“There’s nothing to make up for, sweetheart.”
Sliding her hands under my top, her fingertips leave prickled skin in their wake, then she peels the shirt off my back. She licks and sucks down my chest, around my nipples, and past my navel.
“Can I make you feel good?” She palms my hardening cock beneath my jeans until I’m rock hard, then drops to her knees and unbuttons me. The head of my dick pushes through the opening in my briefs. She looks up at me from the floor, lips a hairsbreadth from me. I rock forward, and she rocks back then forward again, only to pull away just before her wet lips touch me.
She laps slowly at the bead of precum weeping from me. I moan, sure she’s finally going to take me into her mouth, but she sucks one of my balls between her lips instead. Now, I’m leaking enough that it trails down my shaft and onto her cheeks. When she pulls away, my hips follow on their own.
“Do you want a blowjob in the kitchen with all the mess?”
I freeze.No, I don’t want to be anywhere near that mess. I shoot my hand behind her head, threading my fingers into her hair until she’s looking up at me, still on her knees, lips close enough to feel her breath.
“You’re going to get naked and lean over the couch, ass pointing my way.”
“And if I don’t?”
