Page 39 of The Chosen Two

Homework to obsess over aside, I’m feeling pretty damn good about myself by the time I head home. In the car, I blast the 90s channel through my phone, making mental notes of which songs I think I can lose myself in so I can make a playlist later.

When I get home, Jake’s car is already in the driveway. That was fast. I wonder if I did too good a job selling the fact we would be alone tonight. I didn’t think I did, but then again, that man does not seem to need much encouragement nowadays.

I walk in to see the lights dimmed, and a trail of rose petals leads into the house from the mudroom. I bend down and pick one up. I rub the leathery velvet between my fingers and smell the sweet floral musk. They’re definitely real petals.

“Oh shit.”

Definitely not what I was going for. Still in my gi, I duck into the laundry room. Digging through a basket of clean laundry, I finally find and change into a fresh pair of leggings and a T-shirt. I stash my gi in the drawer under the dryer and then continue on my path.

I follow the petals. How are there so many? I check my phone. I sent him that text about two and a half hours ago. I struggle to calculate how did he get out of work, buy these flowers, get home, and set all this up so fast. I feel a little weak and winded as I climb the stairs, but it has nothing to do with exertion this time. I don’t see how we’re supposed to have a serious conversation when he has our house set up like a proposal scene from a TV show I would have watched in high school.

The lights upstairs are off, and as I walk down the hall, I see a flickering glow coming from our room.

There’s no way those are candles… Jake hates candles. He won’t even let me light one in the bathroom.

But they are.

Several ivory-colored candles illuminate every flat surface. They don’t look brand new either. They look like they’ve burned for a while, prior to today. But that makes no sense. Maybe he’s having a mid-life crisis. That could explain this side of him I’ve never seen any hint of before. That could also explain why my husband, who has never even liked when I use scented wax melts, has all these previously used candles.

Then I see something laid out on the bed. A… Does this qualify as clothes? It’s some kind lingerie, black and lacy.

“Go put it on.” I jump when his voice comes from a dark corner.

“What?”

“Take that. Go in the bathroom. And. Put. It. On.”

There is no question in his voice. He’s not making a request. A familiar tingling starts between my legs, and I know my body is going to betray me.

Holding the…garment…out on the fingertips of one hand, I look in the direction his voice came from. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for tonight, Jake. We need to have a conversation.”

“After. It can wait. This is exactly what I have in mind for tonight. So go put it on. Now.”

I still hesitate.

I think he realizes maybe he’s approaching, or has crossed, a line because he softens a bit. “This is going to be different than our usual love-making. Do you trust me? Are you okay to continue with what I have planned?”

I nod and let out a meek, “Yes.”

I hear the smile in his next words. “I prefer, ‘Yes, sir.’”

Sheepishly, I smile back. “Yes, SIR.”

Surely, this won’t take long, and then we can talk. And maybe he’ll even be more receptive to what I have to say once he’s sated… I go into the bathroom, shut the door, and turn the light on. Dear god. Now that I can see the thing in full light, I can’t imagine where he would have bought it.

After twisting and bending and contorting my arms, I manage to get the piece on correctly, although I don’t know how he could possibly think this is an attractive look for me. The entire time I’m changing I hear his impatient breathing outside the door. I don’t want to leave the bathroom, but I also don’t know what the hell is going on with him and don’t want to make him wait any longer. I put my hand on the doorknob so I don’t have to find it in the dark and turn off the light. The less light shown on me right now, the better. Taking a deep, bolstering breath, I open the bathroom door and step out into the candlelight bathed bedroom.

He’s sitting on the bed, and although he’s fully dressed, I can see how hard he is through his pants, even in the semi-darkness.

“Come here.”

I’m not usually one to take commands without a smart-ass retort, but for some reason I don’t dare to disobey. I try to hide myself strategically with my hands and arms as I walk.

“Stop. Stand proudly. I want to see you.”

I have never seen this side of him so strongly before. Maybe glances of it here and there, but the only times I can recall when he’s been remotely dominating were when I asked him to be. BecauseIlike it. This is something else. I put my hands to my sides and force myself to keep them there the rest of the way to him.

When I am standing right before him, he looks up at me. His big brown eyes are sweet and sexy at the same time. “I’m asking you again, are you okay with this?”

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