AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re too smart to make assumptions,” she says, smiling mischievously, and leaves it at that. It’s nice that she doesn’t really have to talk about her work, or rather that she can talk about it without actually talking about it. The couple he is referring to paid triple her normal rate to have her fly to Seattle last minute, so his assumption is a fair one.
“While I’m digging myself into a hole...I think you work too hard.”
He isn’t wrong about that either. Not that she’ll admit it. Therapy, sex therapy at that, particularly at the level she practices, is not a nine-to-five gig. “Unfortunately, relationship issues rarely follow a banker’s schedule.”
“So, you think they’ll make it?”
“Definemake it?”
“I don’t know.” His brow furrows. “You know…live happily ever after.”
“No one lives happily ever after, my love.” The truth is, no, she didn’t think this couple will make it. However, admitting that would be a bit heavy for the moment, and he doesn’t need to know any more than she wants him to. “It seems you’ve forgotten how good I am.”
“Ah, yes. A momentary lapse. Perhaps I was hoping for a reminder.”
“You just got one.”
He strides over to her and takes her hand in his, intertwining their fingers, softening his approach. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He pulls her toward him, pressing his body to hers. “Honestly—none of it matters. I’m just glad you came.”That’s a half-truth, she thinks, as he pulls away and searches her face. “And I really hate to see you go.”
“So you’ve said.” The way he looks at her brings back memories of what they just did. Him pinning her down, her pleasure muffled by the satin sheets. Skin on skin, sweaty and raw. One hand tangled in her hair, the other God knows where, pulling her under, silently pleading.
“I could cuff you to the bed.”
Her eyes narrow. She could argue for her limitations. But she knows better. Ali knows if you argue for your limitations, you get to keep them. Obviously, she can’t be in all places at once, but most limitations are more psychology than anything else. She could explain that she has clients, sessions that have been scheduled months in advance. She could tell him about the wait list that’s a mile long. She could tell him how many years she’s worked to get this far in her career. But what would be the point? “How about a rain check?”
A wry smile lights up his features, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that makes him seem older and wiser than he is. “Fine.” He shakes his head. “Ball gag it is then.”
She can’t help but laugh as he grips the back of her neck, pulling her close once more. “Now you’re talking.” He’s a pain in the ass, but the way he fucks makes up for it.
“It’s not wrong to miss you,” he whispers in her ear. “How can I help that I want more?” He releases the grip on her neck, steps back, and takes her in. “Who wouldn’t?”
“You’re right. It isn’t wrong.” She searches the floor for her discarded black pump. “Which is precisely why I’ll be back on Tuesday.”
He watches as she leans down and peers under the bed. The shoe could be anywhere in this mess. David goes borderline crazy whenever she leaves for a trip, and the bedroom reflects that. He gets restless and wild, demanding even. Not that she’d complain.
She pretends not to like the moods brought on by her absence, but secretly she wouldn’t want it any other way. “There it is,” she huffs, nearly breathless.
Her arm extends painfully as she strains to reach the missing shoe. Her fingers graze the tip and then slip. It’s a stretch, but she fishes around until finally she makes contact and raises it triumphantly over her head.
“Damn,” he says. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find it. Hard to get to the airport barefoot.”
“Not these days,” she tells him, sliding backward before pushing up to a standing position. “They prefer you that way.”
She turns around and freezes. A small gasp escapes her lips.
David, on bended knee, smiles up at her, his expression equally nervous and hopeful. Her eyes widen. It isn’t like him, the nerves. He’s as confident as they come.
In his palm rests a small velvet box. The lid is open. Next thing she knows, he’s extending his arm upward, shoving a big shiny thing in her face.
She exhales slowly, and as she does, her face softens. Not because she’s happy, although she can easily pretend, but because it came sooner than she expected. Although she’s not entirely surprised, the disappointment is there nonetheless. There’s something about men and their need to mark their territory, forever wanting to own her, that feels like a letdown.
“Sarah,” he says, sucking in a deep breath. “I know it’s only been a few weeks. I mean—believe me, I know this is crazy. But who cares? I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I can’t find any good reason to wait on getting started.” He tilts his head ever so slightly as his brow lifts toward the ceiling. “Will you marry me?”
She feigns speechlessness, although there is much she ought to say. Her flight takes off in an hour. Better not chance it. She’d certainly miss her flight. “Yes!” she squeals. “Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you!”
He stands and pulls her to him, squeezing so hard it knocks the breath out of her. “You have no idea. You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world.”
He kisses her cheek first, and then her mouth, before trailing his lips along her collarbone. His lips are very effective. He’s one of the good ones. The kind of man who makes it obvious he’s had a lot of practice, the kind of man who likes to take his time. Which at the moment is a problem. She isn’t dressed, and she’s pressed for time. The perfect recipe for disaster.
