Page 282 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
“Woman, I ain’t doing any more laundry today. We have better things to do.”
Her hands find mine and linger as I loop the silk over her eyes and tie it behind her head.
“Like what?”
“That’s the surprise.”
“Are you going to feed me the cake?” Her fingers graze the fabric of the eye mask, and I catch her hands at her front.
I lean down, brushing my lips over hers. “My kinky little Jade.”
She smiles against my mouth. “You’re the only person who knows this side of me.”
Damn, if my body doesn’t resonate with that knowledge.
“Thank you for keeping my secret all these years. After all the stories I spread about you, and not once did you turn the tables on me.”
“Never.”
“You could have.”
“I would never.” I kiss her and then brush my lips against the curve of her ear. “Stay still. I don’t want you peeking.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Liar.” I tug her earlobe with my teeth and enjoy her gasp.
I step back and fetch the mismatched birthday candles I found in a drawer. I arrange them in the cake, and scrape the match head against the box. It lights hot and fast.
She inhales. “Are you lighting candles?”
“Maybe.”
“How romantic. This better not be a one-off? If you’re starting now, I expect romantic gestures for life”.
One by one, I light the candles, some of which are used, while others are new. “I’ll always treat you right, baby girl. Always.”
She shifts slightly in her seat, a soft sound escaping her lips. “You’re really dragging this out, aren’t you?”
I shoot her a grin, even if she can’t see it. “Just a bit of suspense.”
I set the cake in front of her, and then move behind her. “You ready?”
“Yes.” She sits up straighter.
I untied the blindfold slowly, brushing the fabric from her eyes. “Happy birthday,” I whisper in her ear.
Her eyes open, slowly adjusting before sweeping over the candles, cake, and the wrapped surprise I bought from the hardware store a couple of days ago.
For a moment, she doesn’t say a word, and then her gaze lands on me.
Her eyes shimmer, a mix of shock and quiet awe. Tears don’t fall, but they glow, catching the flicker of the candlelight.
“You remembered my birthday? After all these years.”
“I’d never forget.”
She rises and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her face against my shoulder. Not a quick hug, or a teasing one where her hands slip under my robe. This is a long, soul-deep embrace.
