CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #2
“Wow. Pulling out all the stops.”
A silence settled between us, comfortable but charged. He shifted in his seat, running a hand through his hair, and I realised, I wasn’t the only one feeling nervous.
“This is weird, right?” he admitted, finally voicing what had been buzzing between us. “Like… I know you, obviously, but it feels like we’re on a first date.”
I took a sip of wine, trying to suppress my smile. “A first date where we already know each other’s least attractive habits. I’ve seen you clip your toenails in the living room.”
He groaned. “One time.”
“And I know you have a very particular system for loading the dishwasher that I dare not mess with.”
“That’s just logic, Emma. Utensils go...”
“Handles up, I know, I know.” I grinned, then tilted my head at him. “See? We’ve got all the awkward first-date stuff out of the way. We can just get to the good part.”
His eyes darkened slightly, his smirk deepening. “And what’s the good part?”
I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “I was thinking dessert.”
Dan’s lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something witty, but instead, he just exhaled a laugh and shook his head. “God, I love you.”
“I love you the same” I said with a wink, knowing that it actually meant that I love him more.
The nerves eased a little. Maybe this wasn’t a first date. Maybe it was better because at the end of the night, no matter what happened, I was already home.
We enjoyed our food without a single interruption.
It was almost too good to be true. And then, somehow, we made it to the bedroom.
I was tipsy, giggling, and he was looking at me like he used to, before sleep deprivation became our defining trait.
We kissed, and it was good. Like, oh yes, I remember this good.
And then...
‘Mummy?’
I screamed.
Sophie stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed rabbit like a tiny, judgemental spectre of doom. ‘I had a bad dream.’
I yanked the duvet up to my chin. Dan made a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a dying moose.
‘Okay, sweetheart,’ I said, attempting to sound like a calm, nurturing mother and not a woman who had just been startled mid-passion. ‘Hop in.’
And just like that, our night was over. Again.
It took another week. A week of tantrums, school runs, forgotten packed lunches, and at least one dramatic incident involving Ruby and a toilet roll that somehow ended with me needing to disinfect the ceiling. But finally, the stars aligned.
We got the kids down. All three of them, by some miracle, fell asleep and stayed asleep.
I stood in front of the mirror, brushing my hair, trying to remember the woman I used to be before my life became a whirlwind of half-eaten sandwiches and sticky fingers. I caught Dan watching me in the reflection, his dark eyes smouldering, his jaw sharp with a hint of stubble.
I raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror. "You're staring."
Dan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, that smirk of his creeping in. "Can't help it. You look… dangerous."
I snorted, dragging the brush through my hair again. "Oh yeah? Real dangerous in my snot-stained leggings and baggy jumper."
He pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer, his hands sliding around my waist. His breath was warm against my neck. "We could always take those off."
I shivered as his fingers skimmed my waist "Is that so?"
"Mmm." He pressed a slow kiss just below my ear. "I've been thinking about you all day." Another kiss. "About this body." His hands squeezed my hips. "About how much I want to be inside you."
A low, desperate sound escaped me before I could stop it.
"Dan," I warned, my grip tightening on the brush.
"You can't just say things like that when we have approximately ninety seconds before one of our children bursts in needing a snack or to tell us something utterly irrelevant about a cartoon they watched today. "
His lips curled against my skin. "That just makes me want you more. Forbidden fruit and all that." His hands slid lower, teasing, making my breath deepen.
I turned in his arms, pressing my palms to his chest. "You know if we start something now, we’re not finishing it."
My patience for nights like this had grown thin after multiple failed attempts. I wasn’t getting my hopes up.
His eyes darkened. "Oh, we will. Eventually. And when we do, I’m not letting you leave our bed for hours."
Heat curled low in my stomach. "Promise?"
He groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. "You have no idea how badly I want to take you right now."
I glanced at the clock. Ruby usually wakes around 11pm so we probably have around 10 minutes.
"We need a plan," I whispered, my lips brushing his. "Because if we don’t get some alone time soon, I might combust."
Dan let out a rough laugh. "Oh, babe, we are making it happen. Even if I have to lock us in the laundry room."
"Sexy," I teased, but honestly, at this point, I'd take anything.
"Desperate times." His hand slid under my shirt, fingers warm on my skin.
Maybe tonight would be the night. And as frustrating as it is to keep trying and failing, I can’t deny how much I want him to take me, right here right now.
Desire blooms low in my stomach. I look into his dark eyes, aware of the way his eyes stay intently locked onto mine while his hand strokes the slope of my shoulder where my jumper had slipped just slightly. It had been too long since I felt truly seen, not just as a mother, but as a woman.
‘I’ve missed you,’ I admitted, stepping towards him.
‘Come here, then.’
I did. And this time, there were no interruptions.
He kissed me in that way that made my skin tingle, slow and deep, his fingers tracing fire along my spine. A sigh slipped from my lips as I melted against him, the warmth of his body pressing into mine.
“God, I’ve missed this,” Dan murmured, his breath warm against my throat. His stubble scraped deliciously along my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
“Me too,” I whispered, my hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer.
Clothes were removed in lazy movements, a slow unveiling that built the tension higher with every lingering touch. His fingers brushed the curve of my waist, the dip of my hip, as if relearning me. I arched into his touch, gasping softly when his lips moved across my collarbone.
“I love the way you react to me,” he said, voice husky, dark with need.
I exhaled shakily. “I can’t help it.”
His kisses worked their way down my body, lingering, teasing, his lips and tongue igniting a slow, burning heat everywhere they touched.
My pulse quickened, my body coming alive under his touch in a way I hadn’t felt in so long.
The demands of parenting, the exhaustion, the relentless cycle of responsibility, all of it melted away beneath the weight of his hands, the press of his body, the sheer desire crackling between us.
When he moved over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, I sighed, tension unravelling in the heat of him. His hands explored me in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, brushing my hair back, his gaze dark with hunger, his voice rough with need.
“Tell me again,” I teased, wrapping my legs around him, arching into him, needing him closer.
His chuckle was low, full of promise, vibrating against my skin. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
His lips met mine again, claiming, demanding, and I melted into him as we moved together, slow at first, savouring every delicious press and glide of our bodies.
Each roll of his hips sent another wave of heat through me, building, coiling tighter with every thrust. My fingers dug into his back, urging him deeper, harder, our breath mingling in gasps and murmured names.
Every whispered word, every moan, every gasp was a rediscovery, a reclaiming of something we had nearly lost in the chaos of life. The connection we’d been craving, the passion buried beneath routine and exhaustion, flared back to life like a spark catching fire.
He buried his face in my neck, his breath ragged, his rhythm becoming more urgent. The friction, the heat, the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of him sent me spiralling closer, my body tightening, clenching around him as I lost myself in the sensation.
“God, I missed this,” he groaned against my skin, his voice full of awe and desperation, his body trembling with restraint.
“Me too,” I gasped, holding him tighter, pulling him deeper, letting go completely.
And then, together, we unravelled, bodies entwined, breathless, shattering and coming back together in a way that was more than just physical. It was everything we’d been missing, everything we still were.
As we lay tangled in the sheets, our bodies slick and spent, he brushed his lips over my shoulder, his fingers lazily drawing patterns against my skin. “We need to do that more often.”
I laughed, turning to press a kiss to his jaw. “Agreed. But next time, we lock the door.”
I turned my head, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “We’re still us.”
He smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Always.”
And then a small voice echoed through the monitor.
“Mummy? I want toast.”
Dan groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Of course.”
I laughed, kissing his shoulder. “Back to reality.”
But for a few precious hours, we had been just us and that was amazing.