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I dropped my hand to my knee and sighed, “That’s it, is it?” I questioned, “Our truce ending as we begin our vacation?”
“You said you were working on our trip,” she countered, “so don’t claim it to be a vacation.”
“Does that bother you?”
“No,” she replied instantly and chewed on her bottom lip as I left the space after her empty answer. “Maybe,” she finally admitted and sighed. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t begin to tell you,” She answered, and I could tell it was honest.
“Then why don’t you tell me what you envisioned our trip to look like before we arrived?” I ran the pad of my thumb over my bottom lip as she mulled her answer over before giving it.
“What does a honeymoon look like?” she shrugged, “Because I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“Romance,” I replied, tilting my head as she watched me closely like she didn’t expect that answer. “Intimacy,” I added, “Connection.”
Her shoulders deflated marginally and she looked away. “Right, which is why this is going to be a work trip then. Got it.” She ran her fingers over her forehead and busied herself with opening drawers and cupboards in the closet as I watched her.
“Do you think I can’t give you those things while working?”
“I don’t think you can give me those things, period,” she replied effortlessly, but I saw the way she tensed after the words left her mouth.
My wife was an enigma to me.
Completely unknown and unstudied before, leaving me second-guessing every instinct I had where she was concerned and constantly questioning what it was that she wanted or needed.
But I realized I didn’t have to guess too awful much if I bothered to just ask her.
Because while my wife was a mystery to me, she was an open book to herself. When she was open and honest with herself, I could tap into that connection and read her better than any other time thus far.
“Come here,” I commanded her, causing her back to stiffen as she tried to ignore my directive and her body’s natural desire to comply. “Now, Arianna.”
She looked at me over her shoulder before turning around, “Why?” She continued chewing on her lip. “Dinner will be ready soon,” She back peddled.
“Our meal will be ready, only when we are ready to eat.”
“That’s rude to the staff that works so tirelessly to serve you,” She huffed, deflecting the conversation.
“Arianna.” I held my hand up again, “Come here, I won’t ask you again.”
“You didn’t ask me the first time.” She whispered.
“Wife,” I growled and her foot tentatively took a step forward, bringing her closer to me. “Better.”
She flicked her eyes toward the cabin door and then back to my hand as she crossed the room. “What do you want from me?”
“For you to come here.” Sliding my hand around her hip as she finally got within reach, I pulled her down into my lap. I lifted her feet over the arm of the chair and settled her, so she had no choice but to lean against my chest and look at me, which was what I wanted.
“What do you really want?” she whispered, playing with the hem of her flowy pastel-colored dress where it fell at her knee. It was the perfect dress for a warm summer evening onboard, but it was fall and we weren’t south enough yet to enjoy the warmth of the season. It would be a few days before we made it that far and her skin pebbled as I stared down at her bare legs laid out over my lap.
“To tell you how exquisite you are,” I said plainly, sliding my palm down her bare calf to slip her shoe off her dainty foot. “To tell you how painful it is for me to stare at your beauty and know you don’t see even a fraction of it in the mirror when you glance at it on your way by.” I pushed her other shoe off and then took her foot in my hand, squeezing it and running the pad of my thumb over the arch until she moaned softly.
Then I did it again.
“You tell pretty tales,” she whispered, absently playing with a button on my shirt before chewing on her lip again to hide another moan when I squeezed.
“Said with the lips of a goddess.”
