Page 27 of Just Forever

He’s my home.

“What do you want to do for dinner?” Ryker asks, arms still tightly around me. I burrow even closer.

“I don’t really care, as long as I don’t have to leave the couch to get some.”

“Then we’re ordering in.”

He rolls himself on top of me and gives me a quick, way-too-brief kiss before he rolls himself off the couch.

I make some sound of protest when his big, warm body is gone, and he grins at me before he goes and finds his phone.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asks.

“Chinese,” I say. “Can we get extra of the thingies? The ones that I liked from that place that one time?”

“On it.” He’s already scrolling.

It’s one of the perks of having an attentive husband. You can be vague as fuck, and somehow he gets you. It’s like magic.

“Done,” Ryker announces a minute later. “Food will be here in thirty with extra spring rolls. Want to take a shower before that?”

I open one eye and peer at him. “Do I have to?”

“I figure it’ll make us both feel more human.”

“But it’s so much effort.”

The pathetic whining only makes Ryker smile at me like I’m being cute or something.

“I’ll help you wash your back,” he says.

I send him a glare. “You’re playing dirty.”

He hums in reply, grabs the hem of his shirt, and pulls it over his head. I don’t like to think I’m shallow enough to care too much about looks.

Then again, damn.

My eyes wander up and down, and I’m this close to salivating.

“Are you objectifying me?” Ryker quirks his brow at me.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” I jerk my chin toward him. “Lose the pants.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, which only distracts me further because now there are absandbiceps on display. “I’m not just a piece of meat, you know?”

“Of course not. Let’s have an intelligent conversation. I think better with less clothes on. How about you?”

Ryker’s lips twitch. “Can’t say I’ve ever contemplated how lack of clothing affects my intelligence.”

“Really? I always figured it was common knowledge that this is a thing.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you.”

“There’s an easy way to find out.” I wave my hand toward his jeans. “Drop ’em, soldier.”

He’s still smirking as his fingers pop the button open, and then when he opens the zipper.

“Ooh, I can feel it already,” he says dryly.

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