Page 118 of A Searing Acquaintance
“Yay you, Mr. Big Stuff.” She giggled softly as his lips roamed and found her ear.
“Do you have any idea how endearingly sexy you look with a yellow highlighter stuck in your hair?” he whispered. “All those college boys missed their shot.” He carefully removed the marker with his teeth while she laughed.
Elizabeth poured the chocolate into two mugs then turned around slowly in his arms. “None had your aim.” She plucked the marker from his mouth and pulled him down for a long, slow kiss, her fingers playing in the soft, sensitive spots behind his ears. He sighed and hishands tightened on her back as she felt his control slipping. He leaned in closer, his hips pushing against her waist and his hand moving under her sweater. She felt him smile through his kiss when he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. A slow ache began to burn in her, but she stilled her hands and pulled slightly away. “Will,” she murmured, breathing hard.
“Hmm?”
“Let’s drink our cocoa.”
He looked at her, eyes darkened by desire but with distraction and disappointment on his face. “Sure.”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
She saw his look of apprehension and immediately caught his hand. “Not about us. About work and money and all that yucky adult stuff.”
“All right,” he said slowly. “Can we do it in bed? I’m knackered.”
They put the pot in the sink, filled the cat bowls, turned off the lights, and carried their mugs to the bedroom. He got into bed and leaned against the headboard.
“So what is it?” he asked, sipping his chocolate. “Don’t we have enough work and enough money?”
Elizabeth, curled up in the newly reupholstered armchair, gave him a look. “We both have enough work andyouhave as much money as Croesus. But we haven’t really talked about finances. I know you own this place and there’s no rent, but there’s taxes and fees and building upkeep, and all.”
“We already agreed you’d cover the groceries. And we eat a lot. Every day, at least.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not equal; you know that. I’m barely putting a dent in my paycheck. It’s not right. I feel guilty.”
“Well, I could fire Mrs. Reynolds, and you could take on the cleaning and the laundry and the cooking and such.” He looked at her, his face grave and inscrutable, but his gray eyes were twinkling.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy, you are a very bad man for even making such a joke. Just for that, I should do your laundry, shrink your boxers, and send you off to the office speaking in falsetto.”
He sipped his cocoa and looked at her with a pained expression. “Darling, I think we’d both suffer if my bits were pinched and bruised.”
She shook her head. “With all the use your ‘bits’ are getting, I’m surprised you haven’t complained of bruising before.” As his face fellinto disbelief, she added, “Perhaps I should give your bits a few days off to clear your head and all.”
He remained silent, finished his chocolate, and placed the mug on the nightstand. Even in the dim light, Elizabeth could see he was blushing.
“Now, as I was saying, I really don’t feel right about things. I need to contribute more.”
“I think,” he said carefully, “that you are contributing to this household in the degree proportionate to your income.” He frowned at her raised eyebrows. “Look, did you and Jane go halves on everything, right down the center?”
“No, she paid a little more because she had the larger room and a bigger closet.”
“Did she make more money too?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then, it’s simple. I make more than you. There is no rent to pay. So if we each pay a proportion of our earnings toward our shared lifestyle, it wouldn’t be fifty-fifty or even seventy-thirty, would it?”
“No.” She squinted at him.
“Sweetheart, if the weekly or monthly outlay is bothering you, how would it be if you put the savings into a rainy day fund and invested it?”
“It’s about us and equity, not provisions for my old age.”
“All right.” He shrugged. “Vacation fund. I’ll have the mileage and the funds to get us wherever we want to go. You put away the money to have comfy beds and hot meals and loads of touristy fun when we get there.”
Elizabeth sipped the last of her chocolate, her brow furrowed in thought. His suggestion wasn’t perfect, nor was it equal, but it made her feel better.
