The afternoon light has shifted, turning amber and warm. The house is quiet. Outside the clouds are drifting fast across the azure sky. It’s still cold and windy outside, but it’s heavenly warm in here, with Lila in my arms.
What kind of date would she like? The first thought that pops into my head is something like a fancy steakhouse, but I discount it almost immediately. She grew up with white tablecloths and fine dining and she’s bored of that.
I need to do better.
“How’s your ankle?” I ask.
“A lot better. I’d say I’m pretty much healed at this point.”
“Good. Then tomorrow, be ready at ten.”
“Ready how?”
“Warm layers. Boots you can move in.”
She turns her head to look at me. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I’m supposed to just get ready and not know where I’m going?”
I hide my smile at her excitement. “Yup.”
I can feel her thinking in my arms. “Are we going to get dirty doing it?”
“Extremely.”
The slow grin that spreads across her face is everything. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Why does making her happy make me so happy? I’ve never felt anything like it. But I’m not about to question something that feels so good. I want to spend every free moment with her. I find myself thinking of ways to make her life better, how to make her happier. I can’t wait to see her at the end of the day, and I can’t wait to wake up to her in the morning.
Maybe it’s a little intense for a fake marriage, but I’m an intense guy.
This time she’s the one who leans in to kiss me. We take it slow, leisurely. Making out like a couple of teenagers on the bed.
Being married is fucking awesome.
“Your shoulder,” she says, when we part. “How bad is it?”
“It’s fine.”
She turns onto her side to face me. “Slade.”
“It’s manageable.”
She sits up. “Let me see. Take your shirt off.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” I remind her. “Gonna be mighty difficult when my wife is in my bed, taking off my clothes.”
“Poor baby. Such a challenge. Would sure hate to see what happens when you lose that iron self-control.” Her eyes dance as she teases me. “Now strip.”
My cock twitches at her saucy little command.
I pull my henley over my head.
She moves behind me on the bed, up on her knees, and her hands find my shoulder immediately, warm and careful, fingers pressing gently into the joint, working along the muscle. I feel the tension start to release under her hands before I can stop it.
“Oh,” she breathes. “You’re so tense.” She sighs as she works into a knot that makes me exhale hard through my nose.
