Chapter Seven #2
She stifled the idea of finding her favorite piece of his anatomy. Instead, she leaned for lotion then worked her hands over every muscle group in his neck, shoulders, and back. The light citrus scent flowed over her. Each muscle stayed tight and uncooperative, forcing her to use a firmer massage.
She lost track of time, finally leaning in to kiss the back of his neck. “How does that feel, honey?”
He didn’t answer, and she bent to see his face. Only a part of his cheek and one eye showed, and it was closed.
He was asleep and lightly snoring!
She shifted so her weight was on his upper thighs and debated waking him. But he’d finally relaxed, and the man had worked doubles the last three days. Taking pity, she carefully moved from him. He’d fallen asleep without pulling the covers all the way back.
A bit peeved she studied him. How many nights had she been in hotel rooms or in San Francisco and had to content herself with a bedtime phone conversation that was in no way satisfactory? Too many.
She got off the bed and hurried downstairs to lock the front door, turn off lights, and get a glass of water.
She skipped back upstairs balancing her drink, one part hoping he’d wake.
The other part knew he needed sleep. She wanted to be close.
In fact, she’d been obsessed with being close to him even though they were adjusting again to nightly sleeping with each other.
She was a bed hog, and he tended to stay in his spot.
She stepped quietly into the room and stopped at the end of the bed.
The wind had risen. The windows rattled.
There would be more rain by morning according to the forecast. She rummaged in the closet for the green and white checkered comforter her grandmother made and spread it over him.
In the bathroom, she took her time to wash her face and do her normal routine.
She shimmied into her white nightshirt, took a moment to put her clothes in the hamper, and flicked off all the lights except her small bed light. Tom slept on, unaware.
She bit her lip and couldn’t stop herself from running a finger over the middle of his bare back. His skin was warm and supple, and dang if she didn’t want to kiss him from head to toe. He’d be ninety and she’d still want to kiss, hug, and lick the man.
But maybe they did better when spontaneous. This had not worked out the way she planned.
Turning out her bed light, she used the scant light in the room to shift the blanket so they could share. She slid next to him in the gentlest way possible. He snuffed, slipped an arm around her, and settled into deeper sleep. Tired from her own day, she let herself float away, too.
Clem’s take-out would be a heck of a breakfast.
&&&&&&&&&&
Mia kept her cell phone under the blankets so her mother wouldn’t know she had it.
Home finally, she snuggled into her bed.
The hospital sucked. One minute having her mom hovering was everything she wanted like she was five or something.
The next second, she wanted her far away.
She was downstairs calling a library co-worker. Perfect opportunity to check in.
But Jake wasn’t answering any of her messages.
Where was Santa?
Did they continue with the plan and take more pictures?
What had he heard?
And did she have homework in calculus?
If she felt better, she’d be super ticked at how sickness had interrupted everything, but she didn’t have the energy.
Her phone dinged. Finally.
Can’t talk now. Santa fine. More pictures. Will send.
Mia rolled her eyes and lightly slapped her pillow before texting back.
Not helpful, Jake. Call me.
Can’t. With family. Brother finds out, I’ll be grounded until college.
Indeed. Bret Cara wasn’t known for letting things slide. She knew that personally after her rocket affair last Christmas.
As soon as you can, then. I need to plan.
Are you better?
Enough to come home but not really.
Work on that. We gotta give Santa back soon.
Mia snorted, then coughed hard enough to vomit. Swallowing hard, she sipped her water to clear her sore throat and texted back. I’m thinking a couple more days. We’ll do a social media blitz, then set him in Christmas-party style on Saturday at the gazebo.
Whatever you say. We need this done or we’re gonna get caught.
She didn’t disagree, so she asked about calculus and tapped her usual cya. Turning her phone off, she worried the details into sleep and weird dreams.
She wasn’t cut out for a life of crime. It didn’t pay.
&&&&&&&&&&
Tom woke.
The black of the dark, rainy night had the windows rattling and the old house objecting in quiet creaks.
On his stomach, he didn’t move. Summer lay against his side with her head on the back of his shoulder and legs tangled with his. A comfortable blanket covered them both.
Had he fallen asleep during her massage?
He stifled a groan.
He had.
So did he wake her up for what had obviously been intended as lovemaking time or hold her close and wait until morning?
Now would suit considering she had relaxed her sweet-smelling self against him, and she had planted the idea. He could think of no other way to get himself out of the doghouse but to make it up to her.
He eased away from her. She moaned softly and settled on her back.
Rolling to his side, he gently brushed her dark hair away from her neck and kissed his way from jaw to collarbone.
Her smooth skin glided over his tongue and stirred a sense of wonder.
He eased his hands under the comforter and caressed from side to her hip.
Desperate to immerse himself in her, he skimmed her neck, searching for her pulse, then laid lips there at the same time his hands found her breasts. Her heart sped up.
“Tom?” Summer’s sleepy voice sent thrills pounding through him.
He slid his lips over her chin to her mouth, skipping light kisses for desperate ones.
This wasn’t the time for controlled and proper.
His wife needed to understand the deep ache that rolled through him whenever he touched her. He owed her that vulnerability.
He brushed over the softness of her lips once, absorbing her mew of dissatisfaction. Returning he gentled the caress before diving deep to claim with mouth and tongue. She met him with a need of her own, the craving and intensity one he was familiar with because it echoed his.
She broke away finally, gasping. “You fell asleep on me.” She scooted on top of him, sweeping her hair to the side and shifting her knees to either side of his hips. She coaxed him to lift while nimble fingers ditched his underwear.
He nipped at her lips, and drew a ragged breath. “I’m awake now.” He eased her nightgown over her head needing skin not silk, wanting to feel heat, pulse, and curves.
She kissed him, the claiming he loved.
He settled back to enjoy the jolt of sensations piling between them. Blanket thrown aside, the darkness in the room was only broken by a slight creep of light from the drapes. It was enough to see her face and seal the moment in pounding heartbeats.
She kissed and tasted every inch of him with raw demand until the anticipation burned. He returned the pleasure, tasting scented skin, teasing sweet spots, and nipping at breasts before mimicking where he planned to be with stroking fingers.
But his Summer Girl’s patience was gone.
She rose on top and used firm hands to guide him inside her heat.
With control gone, he rocked into her over and over.
Her whispers for more and more and more fueled a rhythm that left them both gasping.
Summer tightened around him and moaned. The rush of her release swept through him and triggered a whip of intense climax.
He slipped his arms around her as she collapsed on his chest and held on as if this was the only moment they’d have. He knew that wasn’t true, but still he held on.
“Oh, babe. I’m so glad I’m home.”
Those words settled with sweet intensity, and Tom tipped her head and kissed her gently. “Me, too.”
“Don’t fall asleep on me ever again.”
Tom chuckled. “No, ma’am. Never again.”
Neither moved, sleep came, but the connection lingered.