Page 30 of Make You Love Me
“Plenty. Now, get up. I have an idea.”
He turns back to me as I stand, prepared to make him listen.
“Why?”
“Come on. Let’s get you out of your grouchy pants and into something a little more chipper.”
His eyes narrow before the scowl is replaced by a playful smirk. “There’s only one thing that could make me happy.” He reaches for my leg, but I dance around it. “I’ll lose my grouchy pants if you lose yours.”
“But I’m not grumpy.”
“You’re always grumpy,” he argues, and I take minor offense. So, I’m not the bubbly type like other happyish people I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m grumpy.
“Fine. If I agree with you, will you attempt to get off this mattress?”
“Not until you tell me what we’re doing.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“No. It’s called gathering intelligence. How else am I going to know how to dress for our date?”
“It’s not a date,” I contradict all too quickly, and he studies me with suspicion. It is how I would have reacted before we started officially dating, and it strikes an old wound. “I meant, it’s nothing that requires special attire. Just bring a sweatshirt in case it cools down.”
“Sorry, N.J., but you’re going to have to grab it. Moving isn’t my specialty these days.”
“Right.” I turn to head to his plastic bin of clothes, then turn back. “N.J.? That’s new.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. You’ve never called me by my initials before.”
“Oh. Well, maybe my brain is having a private seizure or something.”
“Not funny.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t move. I’ll grab you something to wear, then we’ll get you dressed together.”
“Nice. But you’ll have to keep your hands off me. I’m in no condition to satisfy your cravings. Although, I’d love to try.” He winks at me, and I storm off before he sees the battle I’m waging with my needy body.
It’s been almost a year since we last gave into each other, and I haven’t been with anyone since. He ruined me for all other men. After five years, he knows my every need before I do. He’s discovered my weaknesses and learned how to best exploit them. He’s given me years of incredible sex, and there’s no coming back from that. I haven’t even wanted to try.
Without giving it much consideration, I grab a pair of black shorts and a red T-shirt from the bin. I’ve always loved the way red looks on him. Reconnecting to the present, I return to the mattress and find him sitting up—his casted leg laid out in front of him, and his right arm perched on his other knee. How could I not hear him moving? Oh yeah, unfulfilled cravings can cloud the senses.
“Didn’t I tell you not to move?”
“I’m stubborn,” he says slightly breathless from the work but sounding more like himself.
“You don’t have to tell me.” Kneeling between his legs, I set down the clothes and dial up my resolve. “Walk me through this. How do we get you dressed without too much pain?”
“First and most importantly…” His serious tone grabs my full attention. “You kiss me right here.” A finger taps against his lips. “To activate the endorphins and numb any pain that may come after.”
“Right,” I deadpan with an exaggerated eye roll, but find myself playing along without much consideration otherwise. Leaning forward, I give him a peck.
“That’s not enough to numb a pinky finger.”
“Well, it’s all you—”
