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Tobias leans over and runs a finger along my lips and down my throat, his eyes igniting with promise. “Does it have a stove where I can make you breakfast?”
“Yes.”
He trails his touch down along my breastbone as my pulse begins to rocket.
Heavily lashed eyes sear into me as he whispers over my lips. “A bed where I can make you come, and often?”
“Yes.”
He presses his lips to mine and pulls back. “Then what else do we need?”
“Nothing.”
His smile cracks along with the sky, and it starts to pour, sheets of rain beat down on the windshield when I pull up to the main road and click my signal.
I turn to Tobias as he eyes the water pounding on the hood and looks back to me. We share an ironic smile.
We most definitely aren’t riding off into the sunset.
He shrugs. “First of many. Merde, c’est nous.” Fuck it, it’s us.
“It’s not a storm, Tobias,” I say, looking up at the sky. “It’s a blessing.”
“I don’t want to live in a country with a brittle spirit, I want to live amongst soldiers.”—Dave Chappelle
Ten years later
Sean
My phone buzzes again on the nightstand, and I silence it and lift to sit stretching my neck.
“Jesus,” Tessa groans, burrowing deeper into her pillow. “Is that French son of a bitch not aware there’s a time difference?”
“He doesn’t care.”
“I’ll be calling his wife to air my issues.”
“Might not want to if you still want to vacation there again this summer.”
I run my hands along the fading wings on her back and turn her over, and she groans as I push her champagne blonde hair away from her face. Her blue eyes narrow with a clear grudge.
“They’ll be back soon. And things will calm down.”
“Like that means anything with your work schedule.”
I lean down and kiss her, and she draws me to her as I slide my hand down her body, appreciating the difference between now and when we met. She’s given me three children and fifteen of the best years of my life. She still puts up with my shit and welcomes me home with open arms, asking me for zero explanation. She deepens our kiss, and my cock springs to life in my boxers.
“Woman, don’t start anything I can’t finish.”
“Then finish,” she taunts, drawing me deep into her. I lose myself briefly before reluctantly closing our kiss.
“Hold that thought,” I whisper before drawing on her lips once more. When I pull away, I see the familiar worry that I’ve drawn out of her too many times to count.
“Good night or bad night?”
“Not sure.”
“Come back to me.”
