Page 71 of Wanted

I end the conversation by thanking her, thinking it might’ve been a mistake to have called her. Maybe shopping on my own at an outlet mall would have been better.

Well, there’s no going back now, what’s done is done.

The truth is, there is no time to waste. I should check the drying of the soaps and then start studying. At eleven I have an appointment with my tutor and over the weekend, I didn’t even open my books to study. And Lionel is to blame, of course, he is.

And my hormones are to blame.

After my online class, I have some time before getting dinner ready, so I start experimenting with fragrances. I want to create something new. Lionel has inspired me, not only something that is special for him, but also to offer a line of masculine products in my store. Maybe a shaving cream?

I don’t know, but it’s worth a try.

On YouTube, I find several videos. I spend about an hour reviewing the ones with the most views. After researching, I decided to change some ingredients for better quality ones, putting my personal touch on the formula. It’s about creating something unique, not copying someone else. That isn’t the point.

The creative process is exciting, I really enjoy it.

Bergamot has healing and antiseptic benefits, so in case the person using the cream gets a cut, the essential oil will help heal the wound. On the other hand, mint is refreshing, an astringent, and helps reduce inflammation, nothing better for a good shave. And once we add honey to this with its benefits, the results will be wonderful.

And the truth is that it smells really, really good.

After mixing the main ingredients in a double boiler bowl, I have put the mixture in the refrigerator to harden. It will need to stay in there for an hour, so it’s time to collect the mess and start preparing dinner.

As I finish loading the dishwasher, hands I know well take me by the waist, and scare me shitless.

“You came home early,” I say when I’ve caught my breath. I try to turn around, to greet him with a kiss, but I’m powerless. Lionel has a good grip on me and his face is buried in my neck, as if he wanted to breathe my scent and keep it in his memory forever.

I want to see him. I want my retinas to fill with the image of him. Although I don’t admit it out loud, today passed very slowly, despite having so much to do. Our routine has changed, it’s no longer me and him in our little bubble.

It has exploded and now we live in the real world. For better or worse.

“It was a slow day at the office,” he replies, I really can’t see how that could be possible. He’s the owner, for fuck’s sake, and has been gone for almost a month. Although he was doing some things from home, it isn’t the same.

“There was no land to buy and houses to sell?” I ask him jokingly.

The giggle that threatened to come out of my throat turns into a gasp when his tongue touches my skin.

“I want you to know,” he murmurs, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. “That you are the best thing that has happened to me in a long time.”

Those words make me feel good. I put my hands on his, which continue to caress me around my waist, touching me over the fabric of my old shirt.

“And you are…” I try to add but one of his hands has escaped and pinches my nipple, making me moan.

A kiss falls on my covered shoulder as his other hand wanders around the waistband of my skirt heading south. Feeling his warm fingers on my bare skin, the heat of his palm boils my blood. Behind me I can feel the crotch of his pants grow taut.

“We’re in the kitchen, Lionel,” I complain again. “You’re crazy.”

He nibbles my ear, his warm breath shakes me whole. “Yes, I’m crazy, crazy about you, my beautiful wife.”

I want to tell him more, I want to confess that I’m also crazy about him. Like never before, that I’ve fallen harder for this man that I’ve discovered since I arrived and he doesn’t compare to the one I married a few months ago.

The words can’t express how grateful I am for this new opportunity. Again I move, looking to hug him.

“Leave your hands on the counter, Stella,” he orders me and I complain, I also want to touch him.

“I can’t,” I complain.

I hear him laugh, after a moment he pulls his hands away, and I’m about to scream and tell him to put them back where they were, to finish what we started when he pulls mine together behind my back.

As he wraps some silky fabric around them. His tie.

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