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“Well, it is, sort of. Out of respect for Ginger.”
“Oh, right. It feels like that happened a hundred years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Sandra.” He encircled her waist with his arms and pulled her closer. “Being with you when the grief has the potential to be unbearable has helped me move on. I don’t even want to think about what this summer would have been like without you.”
“Was summer an important time for you and Ginger?”
“It wasn’t important, but we traveled. Friends invited us to their getaways, and we took them up on it. If I couldn’t go, she took friends.”
“No one asked you to visit this year?”
“No, they did, but I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay with you, here at the beach. This is better than any island vacation, being here with you and your son. It was healing.”
“No one has ever said my presence was healing,” she replied, chuckling.
“I have a vacation coming up, and my goal is to sit on that terrace with my pile of books and not move for a week.”
“I’m all for it,” she said. “Do you want to be alone? Or can I join you?”
“Join me.” He stroked her hair, kissing her neck.
“Come to bed. I think I can do something that will help you sleep.”
He let her pull him up, grinning as she led him to the bedroom. “I’ll do all the work,” she said, slipping her fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants and pulling them down over his hips. He was already hard, and it bounced a little, enticing her.
“Sit on the edge of the bed.”
She gently pushed him down, and then she knelt between his legs. Warm mouth, deft fingers exploring, he submitted to her like he’d never done before, when maintaining control was all important, the avoidance of appearing weak. It wasn’t until he was right on the edge and let her know it that she quickly stripped and climbed on him.
The next morning, they got up late for work. “I was in a coma last night,” he said, standing next to her at the counter, buttering a bagel while she fixed their travel mugs. “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing unusual,” she said, snickering. “Watch your tie; it’s in the butter.”
“No, it was definitely something unusually wonderful. I think you might own me now.”
“Ha! You slept through the night, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Okay, well, leave it at that. I can’t have you getting sick on me because you can’t sleep. I’ll do what I can to help.”
He leaned over and kissed her and then licked the butter off his fingers. “I just realized something as I’m eating butter off my hand.”
“What’s that?”
“I haven’t been to the gym in three months.”
“I hate to exercise,” Sandra said. “I didn’t even notice you weren’t. You look great. Your body doesn’t stop.”
“Either does yours. But maybe tonight we can walk on the beach.”
“Okay, that seems benign enough. Not too fast though.”
“No, definitely not too fast.”
Her phone beeped. “Damon’s here. You about ready? I’ll go kiss Brent.”
