by DM Davis
He lifts me effortlessly. My legs wrap around his waist and my arms around his neck while his hands grip my back and rear, holding me as he turns and heads back to the kitchen. “Good boy or no, I’m seeing them later.”
I can’t wait.
I POP THE BREAD IN THE oven and finish up the pasta with chicken and vegetables while Lauren makes the salad. Her phone whistles from the other room, and she jumps to answer it.
I try not to think about who she’s texting. Yes, I’ve learned the sounds her phone makes, and that is definitely a text. That jealous beast in me raises its ugly head.
Her bare feet pad back to the kitchen. I glance over my shoulder and see her eyeing her phone. “Theo, do you have plans for tomorrow?”
I cover the pasta to keep it warm, then turn the oven off and pivot, crossing my arms over my chest. “Other than ravishing your body?” I feign disinterest. “No. Why?”
“Well, that’s a given.” Her smile is disarming. Her cocksureness, adorable. “But other than that…" Her façade falls, and pure vulnerability covers her like a blanket. “Would you be interested in doing something?”
Anything. But why’s she nervous to ask? “Sure. Do you have something in mind?”
“I do.” She places her phone in her pocket and fidgets with the end of her t-shirt—my t-shirt.
Damn, I love seeing her in my clothes. The idea of my boxer briefs cupping her intimately nearly has me begging her to slip off her jeans right here in the middle of my kitchen.
“…It could be a surprise, or I can tell you.” Her words draw my eyes back to hers.
I’m not sure what I missed, but I’ll give her this. “Surprise,” I respond, wanting to ease her nerves while she chatters on.
“…outside activity, and my brother and a few of his friends will be there.”
“I’m in.” All in. From day one. Whatever she wants—I’m in.
She laughs. “Okay. Let me call him. I’ll be right back.”
I set the table and pause when I hear the bedroom door open.
Lauren is beaming when she reappears in the kitchen. It’s good to see her so happy. Not that she wasn’t happy before, but this is a child-like lightness I haven’t seen before. “You look mighty happy.”
“I am. It’ll be fun. I think. I hope.”
I grab her hand. “Whatever it is, as long as I’m with you, it’ll be aces.”
She lets out a punch of air, her smile grateful. “We leave at nine tomorrow morning.”
“Sounds good.” I hand her the salad, and she places it on the table and then gets us drinks.
When everything is on the table, I pull out her chair. “We’re ready to eat.”
As she sits, it hits me. She’s the first woman in my house besides my family. I like having her here. I like being at her apartment too, but it’s different here, among my things, sharing my life with her.
I’ve been thinking about us having to go back to work on Tuesday. I don’t want to say goodbye to her on Monday. I like going to sleep with her in my arms and waking up to her. It’s not only the physical aspect either. I, of course, love touching her, but it’s also the fact that I like being with her whether it’s at her place or mine. I enjoy her company and want to share my life with her.
I don’t want to wait until we’re married to live together.
I want to share the big and small things with her. I don’t want to tell her about my day. I want to experience my day with her.
“You’re deep in thought. Anything you want to share?” She brushes her fingers over my brow, softening my frown.
“Not yet. I’m still mulling it over. Alright?” I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Sure.” She shrugs and stabs a bite of salad. “I’m not going anywhere, at least not tonight.” She smiles, but it’s not genuine.
I did hurt her feelings. I should tell her.
But she jumps into discussing clothes for tomorrow and maybe watching a movie later. My girl loves her movies. I enjoy talking to her. She has an easy way about her. I’ll never understand why she’s uncomfortable in social situations. She’s smart, witty, and kind. Anyone would enjoy her company. I relish the fact that she’s given this rare gift—of herself—to me.
As we finish up, I decide to share what I’ve been mulling over all day. “Lauren, I’ve been thinking about us going back to work and to our own places on Monday.”
“Don’t remind me.” She groans as she sets her fork down, leaning forward, her elbows on the table. Her chin rests on her shoulder as she looks at me. “It makes me sad to even think about it.”
“Me too. That’s my point.” I take her hand and squeeze. “I have a proposal.”
“Okay.” She lights up.
“What if I stayed with you during the week?”
“What?” She sits back, her hands dropping to her lap, eyes wide and mouth agape.
I barrel through. “I could bring what I need for the week. Then, if you like, we could come back here for the weekend,” I offer, hoping she doesn’t feel I’m going too fast.
“Really?” Her brows disappear under her bangs.
“Really.”
“You won’t get sick of me, seeing me every day?”
Is she serious? Her doubt pisses me off sometimes. “I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t want to see you every day. That’s the point of my proposal.” To. See. You. Every. Bloody. Fucking. Day.
“And if you have plans with your friends?” she asks softly, so uncertain.
Then you come with me, I want to say, but decide to not push my luck. She may faint if I push too much togetherness. “If we have plans with other people, we’ll still come home to each other at the end of the day. What do you think?”
She gets up, surprising me by plopping herself in my lap. “Seriously?”
Laughing, I grip her hip. “Seriously.” Though I’m laughing, I’ve never been more serious. I’m not spending days, weeks, months apart from her until she’s ready to say I do.
I brush her hair off her shoulder, cup her cheek and kiss her beating pulse on the opposite side. Making my way up to her lips that are waiting, parted and panting, I pull my eyes off her mouth to meet her dazzled gaze. “I love you, Lauren. I don't want to be away from you all week, living only for the weekends. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms and wake up with you still in them. I want to kiss you goodbye in the mornings and kiss you hullo in the evenings...for as long as we both shall live.”
“Theo.” She buries her head in my neck, her arms tight around my shoulders. A whole-body tremor has me squeezing her tighter, holding her closer.
“I’ve got you, Dove.”
“You have no idea how happy you make me.”
“I do know, because you make me just as happy.” I grip the back of her neck, urging her to look at me.
She does, and the tears streaming down her cheeks nearly knock me over.
“I was actually sad today, thinking about having to leave you in two days. I enjoy being with you so much. It means everything that you want to be with me too, and miss me when we’re apart.”
I kiss her tears. “I always miss you.” I’ve told her that, right?
“Are you sure you want to spend the week at my house? Wouldn’t you rather be here?”
“I like my house, but I love you.”
She presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love your house,” she whispers.
That makes me chuckle. I know she’s not saying she loves my house more than me. She only wants me to know how much she likes it. “I’m glad.” I shrug. “I figure, as a guy, it’s easier for me to get ready wherever I am. It’s not an issue for me to get ready for work at your place.”
“And we come here for the weekends?”
“If you want to.”
“I want to.”
“It’s no pressure. We can try it this week and see how it goes. And if you have plans with other people, I’ll see you when you get home.”
Home. God, I love
the idea of making a home with her. A future with her.
“You’ll need a key to my place.” She couldn’t seem happier about that.
“And you need a key to mine and a garage door opener.” I kiss her then, pulling her close. “I love you, Dove. Thank you being open to this. I don’t think I could bear to be away from you all week.” Is it wrong to be excited about seeing her car parked right beside mine in my garage?
“Promise you’ll say something if you need a break?” She needs my confirmation.
“Never going to happen. You too?”
“Yes, but I’m a woman. You realize that, don’t you?”
I squeeze her arse. “Believe me, I’m well aware.”
She’s the best kind of woman. My woman.
We seal the deal with a kiss.
“Now, about my boxer briefs, Ms. Frasier.” I kiss her nose, patting her jean-clad leg. “It’s time these come off.”
I set her on her feet and stand, glancing at the table. I’ll clean up later once she’s fallen asleep.
“What about the dishes?” She reads my thoughts, always so in sync.
“Later.” I’ve been a patient man—a good boy—it’s time for my reward.
Once we’re in the bedroom, I pull off my shirt, leaving me in only my jeans and my own boxer briefs, having discarded my shoes and socks hours ago. Like Lauren, I prefer bare feet when I’m at home.
I step into her personal space, as if there’s such a thing between the two of us. Her hands trace the lines of muscles on my abdomen—her eyes following, coming to rest on my chest, drawn like magnets. Her eyes continue their journey until they lock on mine. A shy smile graces her lips as if I caught her doing something wrong. On the contrary, her hands and eyes on me is exactly what I want. The fact that she enjoys it this much and is still shy of it makes it even hotter.
My head tilts down, hers up, and somewhere in the middle our lips meet. The first touch is tender, reverent even. It only takes the flick of her tongue, her desire for a taste to send me into overdrive. I fist her shirt—my shirt—around her back, pressing her to me as my lips seek entrance to the sanctuary of her mouth. With a moaning sigh she grants me admittance. Her hands grip my shoulder and hair as I take refuge in the depths of the mouth I love, kneading her back and arse, drawing her closer and closer until I’m convinced we will meld together by our sheer will of wishing it so.
She whimpers against my lips, but instead of taking it further, I break our kiss and kneel before her. Some men would never, but they obviously haven’t met their queen. I kneel to her in reverence, in worship, in awe of the goddess she is. That doesn’t make me less of a man, it makes me her man, and that’s all I care about.
I clasp her hips, looking up into shimmering blue eyes. “I love you, Dove.”
Her hand glides to my cheek. “I love you, Theo.”
Her legs bend as if she’s going to join me on the floor, but I hold her steady, firming my grip. “Let me.”
I’ve been thinking of ripping her jeans off since I found out she’s wearing my underwear. I don’t, though. Instead, I pull them down slowly, kissing her tummy as I slip them off over her hips, down her legs, and pull them off as she holds on to my shoulders. Tossing them to the chair, I sit on my haunches, starting at my love—in my t-shirt that’s way too big and my boxer briefs that I can barely see under the edge of the shirt. I need to rectify that.
Leaning forward, I lift her shirt and kiss across her stomach as her skin is revealed. I slowly stand, my kisses trailing up and up until I reach her glorious breasts with sweet, succulent nipples. I groan when she shivers under my gaze and flick my tongue across each tempting peak as I free her from my t-shirt—at last. I pull her closer, my hands on her arse, squeezing, lifting her to her tip-toes as my lips find hers and suck her bottom lip before drawing her tongue into my mouth.
Skin to skin, her moans, sighs, and quickening breath all drive me crazy, sending more blood to my already rigid cock.
Slow. Down, my blood-starved brain screams.
Releasing my grip, I stand back, holding her hands as our bodies separate. My eyes traverse the sight before me. Her breasts are large, round, and beautiful with pink nipples that beckon me to kiss them—suck them—worship them.
I love the all access, no bra when we’re at home rule. Well, not really a rule. She hates bras and prefers to not wear one when it’s only us at home. I very much appreciate and support that stance on the matter.
My eyes move lower to her tapered waist and round hips. And there sits my underwear. A pair of black boxer briefs, hugging her curves, touching her everywhere below the waist—intimately. I’m jealous of them.
I need a closer inspection. Back on my knees, I grip her thighs and kiss along the waistband. Her hands, lost in my hair, massage and tug as she trembles under my touch. Of their own volition, my kisses move lower—her scent intoxicating as I breathe her in—until my mouth hovers over her clit. One good tug and my mouth would be on her, my tongue piercing her heat and sucking her clit until she comes undone.
“Theo.” She tips my head with a small tug of my hair.
My heavy-lidded eyes meet hers. I’m shaking with need, holding back, reining it in. “I want to taste you.”
She gasps.
“I want to sink my tongue deep inside you.”
“Oh, God.” She releases my hair.
“I want to kiss you in the most intimate way possible and feel your juices drip down my chin.”
“No.” But I know she wants to say yes. Her nipples are hard, and I can smell her arousal. She means yes. She can’t say it. She can’t admit it.
“I want to finger you, lick and suck your clit until you clamp down on my fingers, sucking me back in with each thrust, over and over until you come so hard you can’t stop screaming my name, and it takes minutes before the stars in your eyes dissipate. And then I want to do it again. And again, and again…”
Her hands fly to her face, and I know she wants to disappear. She wants to run from the raw desire in me and the equally raw desire burning her up from the inside out.
Standing, I pull her hands away from her face. Her gaze is not one of fear but pure unadulterated lust.
Bloody hell, this woman. Her want could burn the flesh from my bones.
I place her hands on my chest and cradle her face. “I want to make you come until you beg me to stop. Until you know you are mine. That I am yours. And that there are no boundaries to our love. There are no walls that can contain us. There are no taboos between us. We are the alpha and the omega—our love begins and ends right here.”
I swear the room is brighter, yet I can see nothing but her—shimmering and pulsing before me—as if she is my heartbeat, my very life force, my eternity, tied to hers.
Removing my jeans, I slip my hand in hers. “I want to show you something.” I lead her to the bathroom, turning on the light as I cross the threshold.
Her hand rips from mine, and I turn to see her stopped dead at the doorway. Her hands cover her breasts—hiding from me.
That won’t do.
“Do you trust me, Dove?” Please, say yes.
“Yes.”
Thank fuck.
“Do you think I would do anything to be mean to you, or make you feel bad about yourself?” Say no.
“Not intentionally. But this—" she lifts one finger from her covered breast to point to the bathroom, “—is too much.” She backs away with tears brimming.
I didn’t miss how she stressed the word intentionally. It’s a warning that even my good intentions may not sit well with her. I could hurt her, or I could make things better. It’s a chance I have to take.
I capture her cheek. “I wish you wouldn’t cry, but I know that’s who you are. You feel things deeply, irrevocably. I’m not asking you to change. I’m only asking you to give me a chance to show you what I see. Then maybe you won’t feel so self-conscious with me.” I kiss her cheek and whisper, “It’s important you trust me. I would
never harm you.”
I step back and hold out my hand. “Have faith in me.”
Tears stream down her face, her internal battle evident on her face. She loves me. She trusts me. But is that love and trust stronger than her fear?
All I want to do is envelop her in my arms and make everything better. But I’ve come this far. It might do more damage if I don’t follow through.
I wait patiently with my hand extended. I can’t take this leap for her. If I could, I would have already.
On a staggered breath, she closes her eyes and shakes her head as if to squelch the thoughts that plague her. Her eyes open, and she releases her breasts to wipe her tears away.
I hold my breath.
It’s a millisecond, but it feels like an eternity before she places her hand in mine.
My eyes close on a silent prayer of thanks. The warmth of her touch reaffirms her gift of trust, and I let out a relieved breath.
“Thank you.” I pull her into my arms and kiss her tenderly before backing us into the bathroom.
I maneuver so we’re standing side by side, facing the mirror. I take her hand in mine, clasping it firmly between us.
Her eyes are locked to mine in the mirror. I smile in reassurance. She squeezes my hand, but her smile in return barely touches her lips. Then complete sadness takes over her face—some errant thought has taken over—and her eyes lower.
I squeeze her hand, drawing her gaze back to me. “What just happened? What are you thinking?”
She shakes her head. Her bottom lip trembles. “I’m completely inadequate standing here next to you.” Tears stream down her cheeks and drop down her breasts to the floor, but her eyes never leave me.
I fight my instinct to protect her, hide her away—even from herself. “Why?” I don’t understand her reasoning, and I need to.
“Seriously?” She scoffs. “Have you seen you? You’re the perfect male specimen. Every inch of you is toned and muscular. There’s not an ounce of fat to be found.”
I thought this would be hard for her, but it’s turning out to be a test for me too. Every fiber of my being wants to collect her in my arms and do everything possible to end her pain by giving her pleasure. But I know this is more than a quick fix. She needs to face this demon, the one that makes her feel lesser than and unequal to me. And I need to stand here and let her.