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For eternity. Till death never do us part.
Keys jiggle in the door and the knob turns then, her small fingers pushing it open while my heart picks up its beat. She doesn’t see me; there’s a couple of bags in her hands, nothing heavy, but when I stand, her eyes dart my way.
My mermaid screams, yet I’m proud of the way she quickly grabs her gun and aims at my chest while dropping what looks to be paper goods. “Don’t make another move.”
“It’s me, bebe. Just me.” At the sound of my voice, her shoulders drop, and the gun ends up pointing at the ground. Her chest, though, is rising and falling fast. Her lips part, words sitting on the tip of her tongue, but my sweet girl has gone mute. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit?”
I take two steps when the hand not holding the gun darts up. “Stop right there.”
“Babe, you need to sit. I’ll bring everything to the kitchen.”
“Don’t. Move.”
“Okay.” I’ll give her a minute or two, but that’s my limit. “Do you need some water?”
“Ivan?”
“Yes.”
“Please grab my bags outside the door. I’m going to need a minute.”
It’s her professional tone, the one she uses while making phone calls or talking with clients. I don’t call her out on it. Instead, I give Amberlyn a small smile and do what she needs me to. “Of course.”
“Thanks.” Without another word, she turns and heads toward her bedroom, closing the door once inside.
“That went well.” Walking to her door, I grab the bags outside and head for her kitchen, depositing them on the counter. Then I go back for what she dropped and begin to put everything away.
One thing I learned soon after we began to date; my girl is organized.
Like the kind you see on social media with special containers for their eggs and orange juice. She rotates her stock, everything needs to be front-faced, and the newest in the back. It’s a quirk I find adorable, and also know better than to mess with.
So I do as she does and make sure it’s to her standards, with the shopping bags put away to recycle later.
My eyes shift to the clock and realize that thirty minutes have passed and she still hasn’t come out yet. I worry. I also didn’t miss the fact she took her gun with her. Not that I’m worried she’ll harm herself—Amberlyn will shoot me, not herself—yet I can’t help but want to check on her.
“Order dinner first.” Pulling my cell out, I open my texts and send one to Junior downstairs.
Pick up two pizzas from the place three blocks down. Tell them it’s for De Leon and they know what we’ll want. Get dinner for yourself, too. ~Ivan
His response is immediate. Not even thirty seconds later.
On my way. Thank you, Boss. ~Junior
Please leave it outside the door and knock once. I’ll message you again before leaving. ~Ivan
Tossing my cell atop the counter, I make my way to her room. It isn’t locked when I test the handle, turning it easily in my hand before I push it, and poke my head inside. She’s nowhere to be found. The bed’s empty, but then I hear it…
Water.
Her shower is on, and my naked and wet sirenita is inside.
I don’t think twice about removing my clothes or making my way over. I’m hard and need to feel her against me.
Steam billows when I open the wooden door, yet it’s the sight of her lithe form through the glass door that I focus on. The sight consumes yet lifts every single weight I carry while filling me with a different kind of demand.
That I take.
Own. Love. Cherish.
