35. June
35
JUNE
W hen we finally make it home, all the tension drains as he closes the door. I press my face to his shirt, breathing him in before I kiss him. “That was?—"
“Terrible of me?” he asks, smirking.
“Something like that.”
He wraps his arms around me. “Don’t pretend you didn’t love it.”
Just then, my stomach growls at us, and my head falls against his chest to hide my face from the embarrassment. “Um, I think I need to eat.”
“Chinese?”
“You want to cook?”
“Hell no. I want delivery.”
“Oh, thank god.” I nod vigorously. “I need dumplings with a side of dumplings.”
“On it,” he says, pulling out his phone to order. When he chooses from the healthy menu, I wonder if I should get something better for me than dumplings. Before I tell him to change mine to chicken and broccoli, he adds half a dozen egg rolls and chicken wings. I glance up at him with maybe a little judgment in my eyes, to which he responds, “I worked hard today. I earned it.”
“No argument here.”
We change into our jammies and settle on the couch while waiting for the delivery. To my surprise, he takes my feet onto his lap and rubs them. It should not feel as good as it does. His thumb coasts up my arch, and my eyes flutter back in my head as I moan.
Anderson teases, “Bet you were making that face in the utility closet.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“So, about that?—"
“More rubbing, less talking.”
He snorts a laugh and digs in, causing me to groan. “Did you enjoy the anal play again, or were you too tense for it? You seemed … tighter. All over.”
My face heats up. I’m still not sure about that stuff. “It was good. Just, given the circumstances, I wasn’t exactly prepared for that. And next time, actual lube.”
“So, you want a next time?”
“I’m not opposed to it.”
The fire in his eyes sends a shock straight to my girlie bits. “Good.”
I want him. Damn him for pulling that trickery in the closet, but I almost don’t care. I want to jump him. “You know we can’t do that kind of thing again, right?”
“I don’t intend to break into Andre’s closet again if that’s what you’re saying.”
“No. I mean, well, we’re definitely not doing that again, but also, the whole fear of getting caught thing isn’t my kink.”
“No?” he asks with a smirk. “Then what is?”
“You know what I like.” Why am I not comfortable with saying it out loud? I’ve never been shy about what I want in bed, but with Anderson, it’s like the stakes are raised. He’s the man I’m spending the rest of my life with. I should be able to tell him anything, but if I tell him and he thinks I’m gross for it, then where does that leave us?
“Tell me, June. Tell me your filthy private thoughts. I’m all ears.”
I’d been nervous in the closet—butterflies in my stomach, that kind of thing—but this is different. This means more. Still, I try to be brave. I take a deep breath and start, “Well, um, I like it when?—"
Delivery knocks on the door.
“Hold that thought.” He sets my feet aside and gets the delivery, and soon, Chinese food smells waft through the apartment. That smell tears through my fear to call to my stomach. I’m on my feet following him like he’s the pied piper of Hamlin, and I’m helpless to his tune. We eat straight out of the containers. “Hey, if you wanted egg rolls, you could have said so.”
Half an egg roll hanging out of my mouth, I shrug sheepishly and devour the thing. “Next time, you get some of mine.”
He grins at me. “Agreed. So you were telling me something naughty … ”
“I was stalling, actually.”
“Great, then now we’re past the stalling. Go ahead.”
With a smile, I snap, “You pushy asshole.”
“I pushed into your?—"
“Stop right there.” I dust egg roll crumbs from my fingers. “Rule number one—I am not up to discussing things that graphically. We can do them, but talking about them will take me some time. Okay?”
He ponders this for a beat. “Agreed.”
“Two—I will tell you what you want to know, but I must do it at my own pace. Pushing me on it sends me mentally spiraling, and neither of us wants that because I’ll shut down the way I did the night at the diner.”
His face darkens. “Then let's not do that. I will respect that boundary if you don’t want to talk about things. But I need you to know how much it turns me on to talk dirty with you, not just at you. That’s something I need from you, June. It makes me feel closer to you like we can talk about any filthy thing with each other. I want that kind of relationship with my wife.”
“It’s just that … I worry you’ll think I’m messed up or something, and we’re engaged, so if you think I’m disgusting?—"
He drops his food and chucks my chin with a crooked finger to make me look into his eyes. “Nothing you could say would make me think of you that way. You are my soul mate, my confidant, my passion. You are everything to me. Never think you are less than that.”
But I jerk my chin away. “Are you joking right now?”
“Fuck no. Why do you ask?”
“After what you said to me in the parking lot?—"
He blows out a breath and looks away. “I was fucked up, and I fucked up, and I’m sorry for all of that. I wish you hadn’t seen me like that. You should never have to see me at my worst.”
That won’t do. I take his hands in mine, but still, he stares off. “Look at me, Anderson.”
Reluctantly, he does.
“A year ago, I might have agreed with you on that. But I’m coming to see that a real relationship means you see the other person at their worst, and you still love them. Yes, what you said to me in the parking lot was fucking awful, and if you start saying something like that on the regular, I don’t know where that will leave us. But I refuse to hold your worst moments over your head because that was only a moment in time. It wasn’t who you are.”
“But that shit … those thoughts … I should have kept them to myself.”
“How could you?” I shake my head at him. “And if you had, where would that have left us? You’d still think I was some spy for Andre or something, and your dad would still have his hooks in your mind. As much as I hated you for saying those things, I am glad you did because we were able to get them out in the open and deal with them. We are a team, and teammates fight. But they’re still a team.”
“So, when something shitty comes up, you want me to talk to you about it?”
“Always. Just maybe next time, remember we’re on the same team.”
Anderson closes his eyes, sighing. Then he pulls me in close for a bear hug. “I have no idea what I did to deserve you.”
“Understand me—I’m still mad about that shit. But I also love you, and we’re in this together, no matter what.”
“Know what I’d like to do now?”
“Something dirty, I imagine.”
He laughs and kisses the top of my head before breaking our hug. “I want to look through the documents we stole.”
“Oh. Well, can’t say I’m not a little disappointed.”
“I promise to do dastardly things to you after.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” I send the documents to his printer so we have hard copies, and while we finish up our very late supper, we go over them. Seeing it all laid out, I feel like a fool. I should have seen this coming. “Dammit, I was so fucking na?ve this whole time.”
“You were doing your job, baby, you didn’t know.”
I gulp. “You’re sure you believe that now?”
He sighs. “Yes. I know you didn’t do this intentionally, and I will make sure my father knows that, too. Admittedly, a part of me has been wondering about this …”
“What do you mean?”
“He knew he covered his tracks well enough to keep from anyone knowing he was involved in these companies. He knew his aliases were top-notch. But then he blames you for being a spy for Andre, which means either he thinks you are so good that you’d see through aliases that the federal government doesn’t and therefore I should break up with you, or he thinks I’d be so angered by the accusation itself that I’d break up with you. I think he’s banking on how I used to be.”
“I don’t understand.”
As Anderson flicks through the documents, he says, “I used to be a hothead. I was angry all the time. Bitter. Things are different for me now, thank you for that, and if he’s still counting on me to be off-kilter, maybe we can use his underestimation of me to our advantage.”
“I like that idea.”
“And you must stop beating yourself up about not seeing this coming. We’ve been a little distracted by the haddock.”
I snort a laugh. We’re back in our place, and I’m trying not to say things we shouldn’t in case we are wire-tapped, but I shake my head. “There has to be a better metaphor.”
“Well, I mean, when someone sleeps with the fishes?—"
I press my finger to his lips. “We’ll figure out another term. In the meantime, we need to figure out a plan.”