Page 110 of My Wife
Eyes on me, he leans against the counter and sips the drink.
His gaze trips something inside of me to the point where I may have a moment lapse of sanity because the next thing I know, I’m crossing the tile, planting myself between his legs, and lifting onto my toes.
His eyes widen.
I take the smoothie and set it on the counter.
His gaze turns heavy as if he’s in turn shocked and then keenly interested in what’s about to happen.
Recalling the kiss he gave me when we were in Colorado, I press my lips to his. Only this time, instead of the gentle kiss we shared, it’s frenzied, like we’re up against the clock, clamoring to get in as much kissing as we can before a timer dings. His fingers burrow into my hair and mine press firmly against the solid ridges of muscle on his back. As the kiss deepens, it’s a dizzying experience of constant motion, of longing meeting the moment.
When we part, we’re both quiet for a long spell until I remember I have to preheat the air fryer for the sweet potatoes.
“What was that all about?” he asks, fooling with the straw in his smoothie.
“I was curious to see if some of my lethal positivity would rub off on you.”
“Aggressive positivity,” he corrects.
“Pardonmoi.”
“Why would you do that?”
I shrug. “To see if it would stop you from slamming cabinets. Chase you out of the kitchen. Turn your heart of stone into something else.”
He grunts.
“Glad it didn’t work … much.”
His eyebrows bounce in question.
I let out a long breath, returning to my senses. “Maybe I like the way you are. Who knew I’d want a beast in my life.”
“If that’s the case, a beast definitely needs a beauty.”
“That might be the strangest and sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, in a rough-around-the-edges way.”
However, as I toss the sweet potatoes in the air fryer, I can’t help but wonder if he means he also wants me.
29
LIAM
I cannot stop thinkingabout Jessica kissing me in the kitchen.
It took me by surprise for numerous reasons, including it made me forget what had me so ticked off that I was taking it out on my cabinet doors.
We’re both relatively quiet for the next few days, yet I sense a feeling of electric anticipation anytime we’re in the same room together, or when we text at night. It’s become a bit of a routine.
She’s given me room to breathe and if I’ve been living in a tunnel, there’s finally light at the end.
I can type the things I want to say to her better than I can say them aloud.
Namely, that I want to kiss her again, but she can’t know that. I shouldn’t be entertaining it. What’s wrong with me?
I tell myself it was a mistake.
A wonderful mistake that I’d like to repeat every day.
