Page 50 of Finding the Pieces

Backwards baseball hat, the shirt she got me for Father’s Day—a dark gray tee that just saysDADDYin all caps. She thought I’d be embarrassed, but jokes on her, I love it and I wear it all the time. I complete the look with black boxer briefs. See? Irresistible.

“Trying to fight fire with fire, I see.” She laughs, rolling onto her side to lay her cheek on her folded hands as I stride closer to the bed.

“Just two attractive people, at their most attractive, appreciating each other’s attractiveness, wouldn’t you say?”

“Something like that. Get over here, Daddy,” she says. “Though, I think you might need to ditch the hat to sleep.”

“That’s why you’re the brains of the operation here,” I say with a sigh, tossing my hat onto the nightstand and ridding myself of my shirt before joining her in bed. I don’t miss the way her gaze coasts over my body before her eyes reach mine, blush coloring her cheeks.

“Pillow talk?” she asks.

“Been waiting all day. Come here, babe.” I open my arms wide and she folds herself into my chest immediately, fitting her cheek against the dip in my collarbone. I pull her tightly against me and her thigh finds its way between mine, our legs interlocking.

Cuddling? Underrated. And over the last year, underappreciated by me. Never again.

I don’t honestly know what the fuck I’m doing with Ellie. This whole game could blow up in my face, or it could make no difference at all. But over the last few weeks, during this time before we shut our eyes—our pillow talk—it feels like we’re making progress, even if we only have a few minutes before we both pass out, it’s helping somehow. And I’m not above trying fucking anything to make this work.

“What do you want to talk about tonight?” she asks, voice soft and content.

“I started last night. Your turn, wifey,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

After a minute or two of silence, I’m sure she’s fallen asleep in my arms, too exhausted to talk. Which is why I’m caught off guard by her abrupt question cutting through the silence.

“What’s your favorite time we’ve had sex?” she asks, the words flying out of her mouth so fast I almost miss them.

“What?” I ask, huffing a laugh. “Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been thinking about my favorite time for the last few days, and I want to know if yours is the same.”

She can’t see, but my eyebrows are sky high, and I try to keep my dick from swelling at the thought of Ellie ruminating over the history of our sex life and fixating on her favorite memory. Now I’m dying to know.

I’ve been trying to keep this cuddling strictly that, cuddling, without any implication that I want more. Yeah, I still ogle my wife and tell her how stunning she is as often as I can. But I meant what I said when I proposed we hold off on sex for a while. We need to give the foundation of our relationship a little TLC before we try fucking on the second story. I’m pretty sure that’s a common figure of speech or something.

“You’ve had more time to think about it. You first,” I say.

“Okay. Third day of our honeymoon.”

I search my mind for the memory, which takes no time at all because… “Fuck, that…was a good time.” My hand trails along her side, resting on her waist, my fingers dipping to her lower back.

We’d gone to some liquor-tasting event at the resort and done a bit too much tasting. We were both buzzed silly, absolutely no inhibitions. Both a little sunburnt, a little giddy, and very…vocal.

“Remember when our neighbor pounded on the wall and told us to shut up? They left a note under our door cursing us out because it was noon and I guess we were screaming?”

“Youwere screaming,” I say.

“Objection, your honor. Hearsay,” she says, slapping my chest lightly, pretending to be outraged by my claim.

“Hearsay? I wasthere, love, and you…were…screaming,” I say, nuzzling into her neck and kissing her, slipping a bit of tongue to taste her. She arches her back and runs her hands down my chest, nails scraping lightly over my skin, making every nerve ending come alive at her touch. “What did you like about it?” I ask before laying more wet kisses on her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder, my fingers tensing and gripping her lower back harder, keeping her body flush with mine.

Ellie’s breathing quickens and she can’t hide how her body’s reacting when I gently bite at her skin and she gasps in surprise, her hips unconsciously undulating in response.

“I liked when you surprised me in the shower,” she says, breathless.

“Go on,” I murmur, my lips grazing her ear, my hands drifting up and down her sides, the pads of my thumbs gliding over the sides of her breasts.

“I liked that you wrapped my hair around your fist and pulled me back against you,” she says before swallowing audibly.

“Mmm, then what happened?”

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