Page 83 of The Last Love Story
I finish tossing a salad, then grab the magic roasted garlic dressing from the refrigerator. Two heads of roasted garlic? Yes, please.
Justin pulls a tray of wings from the oven, and my mouth waters.
I grab slices of crusty bread, drizzle them with olive oil and add them and some salad to each of our plates.
Justin puts a few wings on each plate, then sets the tray down and kisses me.
“Thanks for making wings.”
He kisses me again.
“Thank you for cooking with me,” he says.
Another kiss, and this time I wrap my hand around the side of his neck and deepen it until we’re standing in the middle of the kitchen, making out, and I’m debating if I want him or food more.
But then his stomach growls and, I swear, mine answers.
We pull apart, laughing, but he gives me another quick peck.
“I fucking love this. This is the life I’ve wanted for so long. Sharing it with you is more than I dreamed of.”
“Keep talking like that and I’ll drag you to the bedroom until you scream your husband’s name.”
Thatis also very, very good.
It’s depressing to admit that before Justin, I’d only ever had transactional sex.
Either a previously agreed upon hookup to get off, or having sex with whomever I was with because I felt like that was what I was supposed to do. Or one of us had the desire, so we did it, even if it was more about sex and less about the connection.
Everything with Justin is about our connection. Whether it’s slow and torturous or hard and fast, it’s about us, not sex. A couple of nights it’s been gentle touching, cuddling, and kissing, and it feels just as good.
I’ve learned some important lessons—that I knew in theory, but never used in practice—about penetrative sex and orgasms not being the overall goal or destination.
What we have is true intimacy, and I’ll never settle for less again.
As we sit down on the couch, and Justin’s hand brushes mine, sparks shoot everywhere, and I hope I’ll never have to worry about that.
“Would it be okay if we watched the Metros game tonight? I love watching our shows, but the Metros are playing the Revs and that’s always an amazing matchup.”
“Of course. I love baseball. If you want to watch more games, we absolutely can. I knew you liked the Bandits, and you said you watched games with your dad, but I didn’t know you enjoyed baseball too. Let’s add that into our rotation. Just another way to get to know you better.”
“I don’t need to watch every game, but baseball is my favorite sport, so watching more often would be fun.”
“Then we will.”
He hands me the remote, then picks up his phone and starts typing.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I just told you I enjoy baseball too. I’m looking up the schedule, so I know when the next few games are.” He reaches over and squeezes my thigh. “Relax.”
“I never want to take more than I give. Or take advantage.”
He sets his phone to the side and looks at me.
“This is a partnership. There’s no taking advantage. And you give me so much more than you realize.” He kisses my cheek. “Now stop overthinking and put on the game.”
I lean back against the couch and turn the TV on, quickly finding the game. Justin wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I revel in eating a delicious meal and watching one of my favorite teams with my favorite person.
