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I squeezed his cock, bringing his attention back.
“Evie?”
I pushed up, lowering my heels from his shoulders. I wrapped my ankles against his back. “I live here too.”
He exhaled. “Yes, but you didn’t say anything about not liking it.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it.” I lied through my teeth. It wasn’t the location or the view. But it was a cold bachelor pad. He liked the warehouse industrial look. I did not.
He eyed me. “Pillows?”
“I love pillows. And cozy blankets. How are we supposed to curl up for movie night with no blankets?”
“You might have a point.”
I didn’t have to transform everything. “I won’t go into your sports sanctuary. Ever.” I smiled. “And look. I didn’t change the colors,” I added. “Just softened it up a little.”
I saw his jaw tense. He was studying my handiwork from across the room.
“Ok.”
“Ok?” I was optimistic.
“I guess there’s nothing wrong with a few pillows. And blankets.”
I grinned. “I can’t wait for you to try dinner. I found this cute French restaurant around the corner. The couple who owns it is so sweet. I told them about my parents’ restaurant. I’d like to go back one night.”
“When are you going to make Bella’s chicken parm for me?” he teased, helping me sit upright. He reached for his pants and tossed the apron in my lap.
“I can make it tomorrow. I was going to make dinner tonight, but by the time I was headed home it was too late to start.” I frowned. Now that the sexfest was over, I felt like putting on some PJs. “I’ll be right back.” I kicked off the heels. “I need something comfy.”
I walked to the back of the apartment and dug through my purchases in the closet. I had bought a pair of soft yoga pants on our honeymoon and a tank top. I put them both on and padded back to the kitchen. I liked the single green palm frond on the leg.
Jeremy had poured a glass of wine. He handed mine to me.
“Thank you.” I took a sip.
We sat down to eat. We both felt relaxed. I felt like I was still glowing from my orgasm.
“Ok, tell me about the reception. Did you talk to your mom or Frannie again?”
I offered him a basket of bread. He took one of the hot rolls from th
e center.
“No. I told them I would call tomorrow after I had a chance to talk to you, but I’ve basically agreed to go. How could I say no? They put so much pressure on me to do this for my father. I didn’t have a choice.”
“It’s ok. I’m ok that we have to go. I think it’s nice they want to do this for you.”
I pinched off a piece of bread. “Do you want to add anyone to the guest list?” I asked.
He shook his head. His eyes were dark. “No.”
“What about Sasha?”
“Definitely not,” he snapped.
“I thought it might help. Sort of like an olive branch. I can be the one to ask her if you think that would change things..”
