“Eighteen,” he says, his voice husky. “I skipped ahead to one that looked good.”
I pull the app open on my phone, find episode eighteen and hit play, muting the audio and switching on subtitles. Then I split the screen so it’s half his face, shadowed and sleepy in the dark of his room, the other half the show.
“You naked now?” he asks.
I shift until my pajama bottoms are off and my skin’s bare and soft against the silk sheets.
“I am now.”
“Good.”
He has the camera angling up from below his face which gives me the perfect view of his strong jawline, his bare chest dusted with dark blond and his messy hair.
“You missed the opening,” he murmurs. “Someone asked them how long they’ve been married.”
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth. “What’d they say?”
“Twenty years.”
“That’s a long time,” I whisper. “They met as teenagers.”
“Hm...” he hums softly. “I wish I knew you when I was a teenager.”
“I was a nerd, and you were a jock. I doubt you would have been into me.”
He chuckles. “You’re wrong about that. There’s no world where I wouldn’t have liked you.”
We’re silent as we both watch the screen. Mrs. Grey is sucking her husband off while Mr. Grey works a butt plug into her ass.
“Someone asked them what the secret was to a long, happy marriage.” His gaze shifts to my face on the screen. “Want to know what their answer was?”
I nod, and he leans in like he’s about to tell me something sacred. “The woman always comes first.”
I raise an eyebrow. “They didnotsay that.”
He smiles and lays back, relaxed. “He did. I know marriage takes more than that, but I can’t believe there’s a world where a man wouldn’t make sure the woman comes first.”
I laugh softly. “You always make sure I come first.”
“Damn right I do,” he says, voice rough. “But if that’s the key to a happy marriage, then marriage would be easy.”
“You say that like it isn’t.”
His smile fades, just slightly, eyes darkening with something quieter.
“Maybe it wasn’t marriage that was hard for me,” he says after a beat. “Maybe it was the person and the timing. I was young andnaïve when I got married the first time.” He swallows thickly and I can tell we’re entering a heavier topic.
“Do you think it could be easy? Like the Greys? Like the Wellingtons make it seem?”
He nods slowly. “I’m starting to believe it could be.”
I shift beneath the covers, watching the screen, watchinghim, thinking about how turned on I am and how much I miss spending time with him. Things with Seth have never felt purely physical. There’s always been a deeper friendship to our relationship. A level of comfort that allows us to watch porn together and talk about the tough things while being vulnerable.
“Maybe we should pay attention. See how things end for them tonight.”
His voice softens. “I already know how I want it to end.”
I think about that for a second—about what he said, about how easy it could be with the right person—as my fingers drift lower. I slide through my own slickness, hips twitching at the contact. I’m soaked, not because of the scene that’s playing out on the screen, I’m hardly paying it any mind, but because ofhim. I’m only looking at his face. I’m only seeing him. And though I know he has the TV on in the background of his bedroom, he’s only looking at me now.
