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“I’m not sure if I should put your things in my room to the right, or the guest bedroom to the left.”
Today was the last day of my cycle but just to be safe, I’d want to wait until tomorrow anyway, and we both need our rest for the full-day tournament tomorrow.
Though I’ll admit that I haven’t stopped thinking about our wedding night.
“We’re going straight to bed, right? So does it even matter where I sleep tonight?” I say, making an argument for it not being a big deal if we sleep separately.
“No, I guess you’re right… it doesn’t matter where you sleep,” he says, turning to his right and into his room with my luggage.
I grin to myself as I follow him into his room.
He sets my luggage on the bed for me so that I can get all of my things.
I unzip my bag while I listen to Ryker in his walk-in closet undressing.
I grab one of my old favorite pairs of pajama bottoms, an old t-shirt I’ve been wearing for eight years, and my travel makeup bag with my toothbrush and makeup remover. Then I head to the bathroom to get ready.
Ten minutes later, I emerge, clear-faced, with peppermint breath and no period in sight.
Ryker turns when he hears the bathroom door open, likely waiting his turn in only a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt. Does this man not own a t-shirt? But I know he does.
His eyes dip down my body until they stop at my breasts. I shoot a look down my body as well, wondering if there’s some gaping hole where my nipples are poking out or something, but everything appears fine.
“Is something wrong with my shirt?” I ask.
“University of Washington Men’s Rowing,” he reads.
Oh… right.
“It was an ex-boyfriend. He left it at my place and it’s so comfortable that I turned it into my pajama shirt.”
But I can’t remember the last time I’ve even thought of Oliver when wearing this shirt. Too long to count.
Ryker turns and walks away, back into his walk-in closet, and emerges with a black Hawkeyes t-shirt.
“What’s that?” I ask as he comes closer.
“A new pajama shirt. This one is going in the trash,” he says, staring at the grey UW crew shirt I’m wearing.
Jealous, is he?
I have to admit that after the Amelia incident, it’s nice to see that Ryker feels as warm about my exes and I feel about his.
“But I like this shirt,” I argue.
“You’ll like this one more,” he says, offering the black shirt with turquoise writing over the front.
I lift my arms in the air and dare him to take my shirt off.
He eyes me for a minute and then licks his lips. Tossing the new shirt he’s giving me on the bed, he grips the old college t-shirt at the bottom of the hem and pulls up. In one swift action, he has my shirt off and his eyes connect to the thin sleeping bra that I’m wearing underneath.
The sparkle in his eyes dims a little the minute he realizes that I’m not bare underneath.
I giggle as I walk around him and grab the shirt off the bed that he pulled from his closet.
He walks up behind me and snakes an arm around my middle, pulling my backside against his front.
“That wasn’t very nice. You set me up for that,” he says, though I can see in the floor-length mirror on the opposite side of the wall that he’s grinning.
