Page 16 of Untangled
“I guess not. Not if it would’ve changed the ending,” I reply.
“We should bring Violet to the fair this summer. She’d like all the lights.” To Violet, he says, “What do you think, Lettie? Want to pet the animals?”
She bangs both fists on the table and it’s as close to a yes as he could ask for.
“Looks like it’s settled,” I say. “Hayes’ family trip to the fair is booked. Maybe we should make it a tradition. We’ll probably want to leave before the fireworks though.”
“As long as I can still kiss you, I’m in.”
Day 10
Havetoday’s conversation naked—no touching each other!
Today would’ve been a good one to sit on the back patio I’ve been hesitant for us to build. It’s surprisingly mild for early December, and the perfect night for a thick, fuzzy blanket, a mug of hot tea, and a space heater while the chill nips at your cheeks. Instead, we’re backon the couch.
“Day ten, huh? We’re getting good at this,” Daniel says. We’re more than a third of the way through the Amorous Advent challenge now. “Do you think it’s working?”
“I guess I do. What about you?”
“I spent the entire workday thinking about you straddling me in the car and wishing we could go back to day eight, so yeah, I’d say it’s working.” He says this with a tilt of his head, a lock of salt and pepper hair falling over his forehead. His smile prompts the smallest flip of my stomach. It’s not a kaleidoscope of butterflies, but the fluttering of a few is enough to make my cheeks grow warm.
“Yeah?”
“Absolutely. Do you realize how hot you are, Molls? I’ve been itching to get home since the minute I left this morning.”
I want to believe him, but the truth is I haven’t felt hot in almost two years. I turned thirty and got pregnant the same month, and since then, I’ve been a growing, crying, stretching, leaking, squishy mess. Nothing about my current body screams sexy. Especially when hidden under the threadbare t-shirt and drawstring shorts I was wearing the night before last.
“This?” he says, pulling on a piece of hair that’s fallen out of my messy bun, “drives me crazy. And these?” he rubs his hands over my thighs, stopping to grip at the thickest part, “taunt me every single time you squat to pick up a toy or bend to load the dishwasher. This game where we do the activityon the card and then stop? It’s killing me. I love it. I loveyoufor suggesting this.”
His praise washes over me like honey, his sweet words dripping down and clinging to my skin. I will them to stay when I grab the Day Ten card from the deck and turn it over.
“Have today’s conversation naked (no touching each other!)” I read aloud. “Hmm. Okay.”
“Hell yes,” he says. He is bubbling with enthusiasm to see my naked body, the one I appraise in the mirror with nothing but criticism. Maybe his appreciation will rub off on me.
“If I’m not allowed to touch you, I can’t sit here,” Daniel says as he stands and walks to an adjacent armchair. He strips off his shirt and then his pants, first letting his belt fall to the floor and then stepping out of each leg. He meets my eyes before shucking off his boxers until he’s fully bare. “Your turn,” he prompts.
My hands turn heavy as I lift the hem of my shirt. This man has seen me naked hundreds of times. A thousand? But never like this, in the light, without the rush of adrenaline that typically makes this step a short layover to the main event. Sweeping the t-shirt over my head, I watch his eyes fall to my chest. He sucks in a pained breath that gives me the courage to continue. With one forceful push on the waistband of my pj pants, they pool on the floor along with my panties. My skin pebbles with goosebumps, from the cold or from Daniel’s gaze. Both, most likely.
“Should we sit?” I ask. What’s the protocol for a butt naked conversation on a leather couch? I grab my shirt and place it on top of the cushion and gesture for him to do the same. I’m not ruining the furniture for this.
He sits and I sit, and it isn’t three seconds before he says, “Open your legs for me.”
That phrase, a favorite his, had been in retirement. I guess, until tonight.
A rush of heat floods my cheeks, my chest, between my thighs. I let my knees fall open and watch as his eyes lock on my core. He’s tense with restraint, and it chisels his features—the set of his jaw, a tightness in his chest and arms leading to clenched fists. Every muscle is taut. It’s a miracle I don’t see him twitch.
“You been working out?” I joke, and it’s enough to turn down the heat on the simmering tension for a moment. I need to catch my breath.
“Like what you see?” he volleys back.
“I do. You’ve got great abs.”
“You’ve got great tits.”
My nipples tighten at the mention. “They’re not what they used to be,” I sigh with defeat.
“They’re perfect. Can I tell you what I’d do with them if I was allowed to touch you?”
