“Say yes. Say you want this too.”
“I do.” She closed her eyes. “But what if…”
Running my thumb over her bottom lip effectively shut her up. “No what if’s. No unhappy endings allowed. Because this is us, Char, and we were meant to be together.”
And I believed that, with every fiber of my being.
“Come here,” I whispered, holding out my arms for her. My wife.
Charlotte slid into my lap, letting me cradle her in my arms.
“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” I confessed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want you, Charlotte. All of you. In whatever way I can have you.”
Charlotte wrapped her arms around my neck. “I don’t want to pretend either.”
“Good.” I kissed her softly,
“Okay. So we’re doing this? For real?”
“We’re doing this, baby.”
She fluttered her eyes, looking down at me as I brought our lips together–happy to show her just how real all of this was.
* * *
“Happy Birthday,”Charlotte whispered, brushing her lips against mine as I woke up.
A few weeks had passed since we’d decided that this was real, and I couldn’t believe how great it was between us. No holding back. No hiding behind a fake label.
“Thank you,” I murmured, gripping her waist to pull her on top of me. Her tits, even through a thin layer of cotton, were hard as she settled on top of my body.
“Twenty-nine. How’s it feel?”
“Mm. The same as twenty-eight did.” I placed a kiss on her nose. “But at least I have my beautiful bride by my side.”
Charlotte blushed. “Can you believe you’re only one year away from our original pact?” The one I’d proposed in college—that we’d get married at 30 if neither one of us had found someone.
“Yeah.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I was so fucking stupid, wasn’t I?”
If she had found someone else, if I’d missed my chance—I never would have had this. Wouldn’t have had her in our bed, my ring on her finger.
She froze. “What do you mean?”
“Should have asked you to marry me a lot sooner,” I said, kissing her collarbone. “Should have spent a lot more time doing this. Making it real.” I kissed her shoulder.
“Oh.” Her body relaxed, practically melting into mine. “Yeah.”
I was seconds away from tugging down that tiny strap and tasting her taut nipples, dying to get my tongue on her. Inside of her.
I’d been absolutely ravenous for her lately. She’d been more diligent, tracking her menstrual cycle to determine her fertility window before we had sex again.
But I’d had plenty of experience with wanting her. I could wait a few more days.
“Do you want breakfast?” Her fingers trailed up my bare chest. “I could make pancakes.”
“Or,” I said, sliding my hands up her thighs, pushing up underneath that tiny little nightgown she wore. “I could have you for breakfast.”
She swatted me away. “Not yet.”