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He looks up at me with sweet, trusting eyes, and I lower my ass onto the cool tiles.
Jasper parks his front paws onto my thighs and licks my hand. His tongue is soft and ticklish, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my mouth.
Simone’s toned legs walk over from the stove, but I can’t find the will to look up at her. She sinks next to me, weaves her fingers with mine, and rests her head on my shoulder.
We stay like this, silently fussing over Jasper, letting him distract us from what just happened.
Eventually, sitting on the hard floor grows old, and I help Simone up. We finish making dinner, exchanging a few words, all related to the food. The silence could be uncomfortable, but it isn’t. It feels as natural as hiking in the mountains. And the way we work together, each anticipating the other’s move, is oddly soothing.
Once the food is ready, I pull Simone into my arms and kiss her temple. “Thank you.” My voice is still cheese-grater rough, but less so than before.
“You’re welcome,” she whispers, warm breath fanning my throat.
We spend dinner making small talk. Simone has never seen me like this. I don’t know how I feel about it.
Simone finishes her glass of wine. I switch to water. I refuse to revisit the path once traveled. Refuse to let Simone see the man who relied on alcohol to numb his pain.
We clear away the dishes and Simone suggests watching a movie. “You know what we should watch?” An impish smile lights her face, and I know I’m in trouble. “A romantic comedy.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope. If we had done things properly, we would’ve been dating long before we got engaged. And part of the dating rite of passage involves watching rom-coms with your girlfriend, whether you want to or not.”
I know what she’s doing and I appreciate it. Even if it means watching something I’ve managed to avoid my entire life.
While Simone takes Jasper out to relieve himself, I refill her wineglass and grab another glass of water. We make ourselves comfortable on the couch. She flips through Netflix and settles on Isn’t It Romantic?
I can’t help the groan that slips out.
Simone’s impish grin returns to her face. “Don’t worry, you’ll love it. It makes fun of romantic comedies.”
“That sounds like my kind of movie.”
Turns out both of us were wrong. It’s definitely not my kind of movie, but I’ll admit it is funny. I settle my arm around Simone’s shoulders, and she curls into me. It feels good, like I remember from college.
And just like that, I stop paying attention to the movie. I watch Simone. Notice things I’d forgotten about her. The way she laughs at the funny parts. The way she smells like a mountain breeze. Clean. Fresh. Freeing. The way she feels soft and warm against me.
She turns her face to me, a dangerously tempting smile on her lips. Her gaze lands on my mouth—and her breath and my heart rate hitch. All I can think about is tasting her. Exploring her inside and out.
She doesn’t return to watching the movie. She just drinks me in for a long, dizzying moment. My heart rate kicks up, playing a loud upbeat rhythm in my chest. I could stay like this forever and be content.
Well, almost content.
I lower my mouth to hers and lick her bottom lip. Taste the drop of wine that lingers there.
Our mouths move together in perfect harmony, talking without words.
Jasper’s soft snores come from his dog bed and the movie plays undisturbed in the background. Neither of us stops kissing. Kissing Simone is an addiction. A healthy addiction. One I never want to end.
I’m also not in a rush to move from the couch. When we were younger, the span of time between when we started making out and when I was buried deep inside her was a small blip. Barely noticeable. Now I just want to savor her a little longer before we get to dessert.
But in time, my need to only kiss Simone and my libido part ways, and I trace my fingertips along her ribs to her breasts. My thumb draws tight circles around her nipple while my mouth enjoys her wine-tinged kisses. I’m in heaven, and it will only get better.
Simone’s back arches, pressing her firm breast into my palm. She moans.
“Should we stop now?” I somehow manage to say and pull away, my voice husky and aching with hunger. Aching with the need to do the right thing.
Confusion and disappointment flicker on Simone’s face. “You want to stop?”
