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What is familiar, then? I’m in my own home, sure. But I need more comfort.
I need chocolate.
Now.
Peeking under the covers, I take in the sight of my naked thigh covered by Will’s naked thigh. I blink. I blink again, imagining my eyes are a camera, memorializing this image. Yes, it’s silly. Yes, it makes me smile.
And yes, it’s perfect.
He’s spending the night. Expecting breakfast. Maybe some morning nookie.
Scratch that.
Look at that body again. Did someone carve him out of ivory, soapstone, a big old chunk of solid testosterone?
Definitely some morning nookie.
The rasp of my own breath in the back of my throat is all I hear as I move my hip just so, trying not to wake him.
Midnight expeditions for chocolate when you are alone are easy. Cravings hit. Emotions overwhelm. We aim for the fix that makes the storm of impossible feelings calm down from a whirling tornado to a wind gust.
But turning to a theobromine therapist when you’re stuck to your lover–the residue of Fluff mixed with other, lovelier fluids–is layered with obstacles.
Getting my hands on those brownies in my kitchen is a journey akin to traveling through Jötunheim in God of War to reach the highest peak.
Will lets out a long sigh at the exact moment I manage to get the sole of my left foot on the ground, his hand migrating to my breast. I’m on my back, his thumb sliding across my nipple like he’s ready for round… for round…
Oh, man.
I lost count.
Will’s breathing settles back into the cadence of deep sleep, his hand moving enough to make me suppress a moan, stomach gurgling. I burned two brownies’ worth of calories from all that sex, right?
Maybe three?
He withdraws his arm and I take my chance, my ass hitting cold air as it slides off the bed, my glutes engaged in ways that make them scream as I work to wiggle out, then stand.
Whew.
I look down.
I’m naked. And is that a hickey on my boob?
The thought of Will’s lips on my skin makes me start to want him again.
Brownies.
Will.
Brownies.
Will.
Brownies–
Damn.
My refrigerator draws me like a moth to a flame. I’m just being considerate, right? It would be rude to wake him up to ask for another ride on the Willmobile.
