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DEE
After I push the start button on the packed-to-the-gills dishwasher, I check the clock. “Well, I have to say, that was perfect. I think we should do it every year.”
Sam’s a washing machine himself, setting one champagne flute in the drying rack and immediately starting the next. “Counting down to midnight on Iceland time instead of East Coast time, all the guests out of here at eight, kids exhausted and asleep by nine. ‘New Year’s Eve in Reykjavik’ was genius. You’re pretty smart, wife.”
I toss my hair dramatically and adopt a husky tone. “You mean you’re not just into me for my looks?”
“Those’d be enough, but it is what’s up there that is really hot,” he says, tipping his chin toward my skull.
“Hm.” I sidle up next to him to stage whisper in his ear. “Maybe we should leave the rest of the dishes till the morning.”
“And make use of the fact that the kids are zonked out?”
I nestle in behind him, pressing my breasts to his back. “I told you there’d be rewards to working a normal-person schedule.”
“And you were correct,” he says, shutting off the water and drying his hands. “As always.”
“Ooh.” I twirl, and then swing my hips as I sashay toward the bedroom. “Keep up with the sexy talk, mister, and you might actually get laid.”
Sam catches up with me to wrap strong arms around me from behind, slowing my progress. “You are the mistress of your domain. You kick ass in the courtroom and are the sexiest mom I know.”
“Ugh. I don’t want to hear about other sexy moms.”
“There aren’t any others.” His words are quiet and urgent in my ear. “I don’t know what I was saying. I’m so flooded with pheromones I can barely speak.”
I turn to face him, giving him my cheekiest grin. “Maybe just talk with the hands, then?”
“Your wish is my command,” he says before literally sweeping me off my feet, carrying me into the bedroom, and tossing me onto the bed. After suppressing a squeal, I waggle my eyebrows. “Somebody’s been working out.”
He closes and locks the bedroom door, and we strip, eyeing each other hungrily. We’ve had our ups and downs, but my desire for this kindhearted man never wanes. We don’t make love as often as we did before kids, but when we do, it isn’t just same-old, same-old. Tonight, after shedding his corduroys and flannel shirt and socks and boxers, he joins me on the bed, lying next to me and trailing a finger down the side of my face.
“Every day, I’m thankful I brought you that cup of coffee.”
“Because your patients wouldn’t have made it into the clinic without an alert escort?” I ask, a tease in my tone.
He shakes his head. “Uh-uh. Because I would be sad and alone.”
“Eh, some other girl would’ve scooped you up.”
His hand strokes gently, almost reverently, down my side. “There is no other girl for me.”
“I’m excited that we’re finally going to get to take our ten-year anniversary trip.” Just thinking about having him all to myself has me smiling in bliss.
“Four years late is better than not at all.” He stretches his arms over his head and yawns. “A Caribbean cruise. Blue water, sunshine, beaches, and boat drinks. March of 2020 can’t come fast enough.”
“Better than our honeymoon, when the only thing we could afford was a weekend at the Cape.”
He levers up and over so that his body covers mine, his erection nestling into my folds. “I was just glad you married me.”
“Are you still glad?”
“Shall I show you? How happy you make me?”
“Please do,” I answer.
And then he does.
8
