Page 92 of Goal Line
We’re alone here now, the last person we were sharing this space with having left just a moment before probablybecause she was uncomfortable with the way I was openly undressing my husband with my eyes.
“You can’t look at me like that when there are other people around,” Luke groans as he walks toward the mirrors to rack his weights on the stand.
“Why not? We’re newlyweds. No one is going to be surprised if I’m looking at my husband like I want to have sex with him.”
Luke chuckles. “You weren’t looking at me like you wanted to have sex with me, baby. You were looking at me like you were picturing it happening.”
“Maybe I was. Or am,” I say with a shrug, loving that I suddenly don’t care what people think, when my whole life, other people’s opinions of me have mattered as much as, or more than, my own. Maybe this marriage has been good for my self-confidence, too.
His eyebrows dip as he looks into the mirrors behind the weights, watching me stare at him.
“My god,” I say. “It’s so unfair that you look likethatafter working out, and I look like this hot mess.”
“Nothing about you sweaty and panting has me thinking ‘hot mess.’” Luke’s voice is low and sensual, but then he clears his throat and looks away, and I’m guessing he’s trying to stop that semi hard-on in his gym shorts from getting any more out of control in a public place.
But the thought of teasing him gives me a sudden burst of energy, and I stand and cross the space between us, coming up behind him and trailing my fingers up one bicep. “You’ve never told me about these new tattoos...”
Every time I considered asking about them this past weekend, I was too tired from all the sex and fell asleepinstead,only to be awoken by my husband either trying to feed me or fuck me again. The hedonistic pleasure of it all is a welcome memory that’s spurring me on, wanting more, even though I’m exhausted from this workout.
“Which ones do you want to know about?” he asks.
I trace my fingertips over a few clusters of small flowers up one arm and across his shoulders as I follow the path down his other bicep—some are single clusters, others are a series of clusters on branches. “Tell me about the flowers.”
His gaze locks on mine in the mirror, and he runs his lower lip between his teeth. “They’re peach blossoms.”
My sharp inhale is loud in the silent space. “Why peach blossoms?”
“Why do you think, Peaches?”
Swallowing down the emotions thick in my throat, I wrap my hand around his upper arm and turn it slightly so that I can see the reflection of two scoops of ice cream atop a cone. “The ice cream?”
“I’m convinced we still haven’t found the best flavor yet. This is my reminder that I get to keep looking...with you.”
My fingers trail around his shoulder and over his chest, landing on a full moon with a shadow across most of it. “The moon?”
“The eclipse we watched from the beach in the middle of the night last summer.”
“When the clouds rolled in and blocked our view right before the total eclipse?”
He nods his chin. “Keep looking.”
And that’s when I notice the hazy clouds below the moon, above a beach scene.
“What about these waves?” I ask, trailing my fingers alongthe waves hitting the grassy cliffs. It makes me miss the beach, since in summers past so much of our time has been spent there. Maybe while we’re up in Newbury Falls this weekend we can make a quick trip down to the water.
“The waves that crash into the cliffs below your house at high tide.” As I understand that each of these tattoos is tied to me, my eyes water. Then Luke grabs my fingers and holds them to the waves on his chest as he spins to face me, stepping closer so my forearm and hand are flattened against his body. “The sea was my first love. And then it was hockey. And finally, it was you.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, and instead of showing him how emotional I am, I try to play it off. “Third place isn’t exactly the best?—”
“You’re my last love, Evie, and that’s all that matters. After the waves have eroded those cliffs and hockey is a distant memory, it will stillalwaysbe you.”
I choke on the sob that erupts from the back of my throat, and then laugh at myself. “I’m sorry, but you can’t say things like that while I’m pregnant without me getting overly emotional.”
He drops my hand, then rests both of his on my hips as he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m okay with Emo Eva. Truth be told, I quite like knowing you have feelings.”
I tilt my head back to look up at him as he lets out a low rumble of laughter. “Way to ruin the moment.”
“Nothing’s ruined, Peaches. But now I see that the way to prevent you from mauling me in public is to start talking about my feelings.” He winks at me then, and I can’t help but smile back.
