Page 63 of Pull
She drapes her hands on my chest, gazing up at me with those ocean eyes. “I want you to eat your dinner. In the living room, even. That way you can put your feet up and relax. Watch the episode ofOzarkthat Ben and I watched without you because you fell asleep, and you’re still butthurt about it.”
I scowl at her. “I’m notbutthurt. You just don’t expect your husband and wife to betray you like that.”
She laughs. “And then I want you to take a shower, get dressed in those sexy gray sweatpants we all love on you…” Her fingers tap my pectoral muscle. “And I want you to go downstairs.”
I give her a bemused look. “Downstairs…”
“Uh-huh,” she nods.
The unspoken words between us give me the chills. She bites her lip.
“And you’re okay…?” I ask. “Putting Ethan to bed by yourself and everything?”
“I’m supermom, we all know this,” she smiles. “But really, I’m exhausted. I’m gonna give him a bath, put him to bed, and then I’m crashing. I’ll probably be asleep by the time you’re done eating.”
I can’t help the grin I’m giving her. She’s really just the perfect wife, in every single way.
Hovering over her mouth, I whisper, “You know he’s gonna keep me down there for hours.”
She lets out a soft hum. “Don’t make a mess.”
I can’t help but laugh while I kiss her softly, cherishing the feel of her pouty lips and her sweet floral scent. She’s the femininity I love; the contrast to Ben’s hard, rough edges.
I love them both so much, it’s crazy.
Two hours later, I’m done eating, showered, and dressed in exactly the sweatpants Jess advised. I still haven’t even seen Ben since earlier, but now that I know we’re having a night alone, that familiar nervous excitement is thrumming in my veins.
It feels just like that first night, when I came down to the basement to find Ben.
My girlfriend’s father…
A terrible idea in theory that somehow turned in the best decision I’ve ever made.
Strutting down the stairs into the dimly lit basement, I look around for my husband. I’d definitely expected him to be on the couch watching TV with a beer…
But he’s not.
In fact, I don’t see him anywhere.
The unknown is working me up even more, goosebumps sheeting my flesh as I walk to the fridge and grab a beer. Twisting off the top, I take a sip and have a seat on the couch.
Half the beer is gone by the time I turn the TV on, and then the rest of it goes while I surf channels, trying to find something to watch.
Eventually, I settle on some movie, and just as I’m about to get up and go for another beer, I hear footsteps.
“You want another?” Ben’s gruff voice comes from the dark, and I turn over the back of the couch to find him sauntering over to the fridge from where his desk is.
“You were down here the whole time?” I ask, my lips curling in amusement.
“I wanted to watch and see if you did anything interesting,” he admits teasingly, bringing two bottles over to the couch. He plops down next to me and hands me one. “But you’re just a boring old married guy.”
Our fingers brush when he hands me the beer, and I swear to God, the fact that it’s been two years and his touch still zaps me in the balls is the most mesmerizing thing I’ve ever experienced.
I bite the inside of my cheek while I watch him, sipping his beer. Plush lips wrapped around the head of the bottle, throat adjusting as he swallows…
I’m still just as fascinated by him as I was that first night, too. Two years, and in fact, I’m even hungrier now.
Sipping from my beer, I lean back on the couch and pretend to watch the movie. “That’s me… Just a boring married guy with a baby who restores old cars in his garage.” I peek at him. “Pretty clique, huh?”
