Page 106 of Sex. Love. Marriage.

So I let her run around naked. Who fucking cares. It’s not like we’re in public, right?

Kelly finds me a little later when I’m trying to remember where we had the antibacterial cleaner we had for my hand last year. “I need your help,” I say to her. I don’t need her help. It’s a ploy to get her to come upstairs so I can lock her in the bedroom and make up for the two nights I was away.

She does and stands in the doorway to the bathroom, her shoulder pressed to the doorframe. Fuck, she’s so beautiful. Look at her. Thirty looks good on her. And I’ll tell you what else. I don’t care what Instagram and all the other social media sites try to make women believe, a woman’s body after five kids is fucking beautiful. I’ll tell you why, too.

Because she gave life to our children. She’s held them while they cried, let them sleep on her chest and fed them. She’s been vomited on, peed on, and spent more nights than me sleepless. Every stretch mark, every extra pound, it’s earned if you ask me and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Kelly catches onto my wandering stare. “You didn’t call me up here to help you, did you?”

“Sure I did.” I step toward her, winking. “To help me get off.”

She rolls her eyes but lets me wrap my arms around her and bury my scruffy face between her shoulder and neck. “You’re such a boy.”

“Why don’t you show your boy how much you missed him?”

“I just spent the last two nights with three kids alone.” Another giggle escapes her. “Of course I missed you.” Somehow she catches sight of my thumb and gasps. “Noah, your thumb. What the hell happened?”

I have her on our bed and shrug. “I was hooked.”

“That’s what she said,” she snickers.

And that, friends, is why I married this woman.

(And here you thought we learned some lessons over the last eight months. Ha. Fuckin’. Ha.)

“THIS ISN’T WORKING. You can’t start and then stop and leave me hanging.”

Do you know what we’re in the middle of?

If you guessed sex, you’re right.

If you guessed fighting, you’d also be right. We seem to be good at both. I guess that’s what they mean when they say opposites attract because Noah and I are completely different. Like the way he takes complete offense to my words.

He scowls at me, a warning to take my words back. “I didn’t stop.”

It’s hard for me to focus on anything outside my own need. My husband has been gone for the last few days fishing with his friends and Oliver. All I can think about are two things. How hot he looks now that he’s grown a beard, and how horny I am. “Yes, you did!” Panting, frustration rolls through me. “I was almost there.”

Noah flips me around so I’m flat on my back, the intensity of his face, the sweat on his forehead, the half-lidded eyes, all that tells me he’s into it. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m distracted, or maybe this remodel has gotten the best of me. Or, maybe it’s him. Maybe he just can’t get it done anymore.

I think he’s going to enter me again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he lowers himself between my legs, his glare on mine. “I didn’t stop.” Biting the inside of my thigh, his mouth trails up to my clit. “I was gonna come so I slowed down, but I didn’t stop.”

He did stop, but I’m not about to argue with him now because hello, his mouth is exactly where I want it.

Let me tell you something about this though because my husband, he’s really good at getting me off. What he’s not good at is making sure the door is locked because just about then, Sevi opens the door, no shirt on and holding a nail gun.

Can you imagine what happens next?

I bet you can, or maybe you can’t, and I’m just going to tell you.

“Daddy, I help. I help you,” Sevi says, carrying the nail gun over to our bed where I basically karate chop Noah’s head between my thighs and rip the blanket up over us. “Here!”

They always say when an accident happens, it’s slow motion. I’d like to tell you it’s not. Everything happened so fast I couldn’t move my leg out of the way.

I’d also like to point out this is all Noah’s fault. You will soon find out why.

Wanna know how it ends? Besides me with a nail in my thigh and Noah with a fat lip where I punched him in the face with my vagina. The ER. The Beckett family and this place… we friends.

“WHY’D YOU TAKEthe safety off the nail gun?” I scream at Noah who’s trying to comfort Sevi, completely disregarding the fact that his wife has a drywall nail in her thigh. It’s not even a finishing nail, which I would have preferred for it to be because this is one instance where smaller is definitely better.

---