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I sat down at my kitchen table and firmly reprimanded myself. “You are overthinking.”
A knock sounded at my door. “Open up, baby.”
“Lucky!”
I ran and opened the door.
He stood with his hands braced on the doorframe above his head. He wagged his eyebrows. “Time’s up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thank, God. I’ve worn a path into the floor with my pacing.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Why?” Dropping his hands, he rested one on my waist as he steered me back into my house.
“I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know what to say. I was trying to channel my inner Junie.”
He barked out a laugh. “Please don’t. You’re enough of a handful on your own without channeling Junie. And for further reference, say, ‘Hi, darling,’ in the sweet way you do, and I’ll take it from there.”
I smiled up into his stormy, grey eyes. “Hi, darling.”
“Hi, baby.” He wrapped his hand around the front of my throat and pulled me closer, leaning his forehead against mine. “You want to pack a bag and come to my place? I’m not playing tonight. Stitches aren’t fully healed.”
“Yes,” I replied softly, my hands on his waist. “I’d like that.”
“We’ll go for a ride down to Bridgewater? I’ll take you to Bliss Kitchen for dinner then we’ll go home.” He finished on a whisper. “I need to hold you.”
“And I need you to hold me.”
The space between us pulsed with hope for our next chapter. We were really going to do this.
Not an hour later, after helping me with my helmet, he pulled my body close to his and eased the bike down the driveway.
I loved the initial take-off. His body swaying to the left as he turned out of the driveway, my body leaning with him.
Lean in.
Don’t fight.
Don’t resist.
And it bore repeating, lean in.
There was a lesson here. Several, probably, that my fastidious mind would delight in picking through later. For now, the wind breaking around us as the world sped by was enough. More than enough. It was freedom and unity at once.
I clasped my hands around his tight tummy, and chuckled to myself, remembering that first ride when he warned me not to explore.
He patted my hand briefly, his own chuckle vibrating through his chest. I wondered if he knew what I was thinking.
Taking the scenic route along the backroads softened my shoulders, relaxed my jaw, and allowed my body the time it required to melt against his. Odd how much I enjoyed giving over control to him at times. The bike rendered me utterly dependent on him, my only contribution being the alignment of my will with his while the world sped by and the wind blew my cares away. A brief but welcome reprieve. An escape from my reality.
We ate well and swung back onto his bike. Tender anticipation marked the way home. Unlike the first time, we knew what we were to each other, what we planned to be to each other always.
He led me up the stairs, his fingers linked through mine, and stripped off my clothes before laying me down on our bed. Lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, he rolled me onto my stomach, the palm of his hand following the curves of my body, brushing down the length of my spine, rounding the swell of my butt, cupping the line where it met my thighs before stroking the length of my inner thigh as far as he could reach until I melted into the mattress.
Dropping a kiss on my naked shoulder, he urged me to turn over and continued his tender ministrations over my collarbone, my breasts, my tummy, then gently cupping my mons, he sighed and brought his beautiful mouth to mine.
“Minty,” he breathed. “I love you, my heart.”
I smiled against his lips. “I love you, too, my darling.”
