Date Your Wife
SLADE
Ikiss her.
Slow. No rush. My weight shifting over her, one hand braced beside her head, the other tracing the line of her jaw, her throat, the soft skin below her ear that I’m learning makes her breath catch and goosebumps appear on her skin.
She makes a small sound against my lips and her hands find my chest, fingers curling into my work jacket.
I take my time with the kiss. I’ve waited a long time to kiss her again, and I’m going to savor it.
I kiss the corner of her mouth. Her cheek. The soft place below her jaw where her pulse is jumping. I feel her fingers work at the buttons of my jacket and I let her push it off my shoulders and she pulls me back to her mouth and kisses me with both hands in my hair.
My cock swells inside my jeans. It doesn’t matter that I’m exhausted, that my shoulder is burning. None of it registers against my need for her.
I could kiss her forever. I could bury myself inside her in one thrust right now.
And that’s why I need to stop.
Not because I want to stop. I absolutely fucking don’t want to.
But I also know how I want to make love to my wife for the first time, and it’s not like this: still filthy from work and wrecked from a sleepless night.
She deserves intention. She deserves a man who’s made plans, a man who’s trying his damndest to win her over instead of rolling on top of her and rutting on her like a stag in heat.
A man who’s at least fucking showered in the last twelve hours.
She deserves better.
I pull back.
She blinks. Looks at me. Her lips are slightly swollen and her cheeks are flushed. She looks confused, and I don’t blame her.
“What’s wrong?” she says.
I roll off her and onto my side. Lucky stirs between us, registering the shift in activity, and looks at me with one suspicious eye.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her. “Your mama and I are busy. You’re the guest in this bed, ma’am.”
She flops her head down with a grunt.
Lila props herself up on her elbow and grins at me. “Hmm. I like ‘stern daddy’ Slade.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I want to date you,” I say suddenly.
She studies my face like she’s checking whether I’m serious. “I’m sorry?”
“I want to date you,” I say again. “Take you out. Go on a date. The whole thing.”
Those big brown doe eyes blink in confusion. “Slade. We’re already married.”
“I can date my wife. My mom and dad were always dating each other. Even with four kids and a ranch to run, they managed it. Even if it was just the two of them sitting on the porch swing sharing a glass of something good at the end of the day, they always made time for just the two of them.”
Her gaze softens. “And you want that too.”
“I want that with you. I know we’ve done everything backwards. Met, got married, moved in together, all of it before we ever went on a single date.” I hold her gaze. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking you for granted. I want to court you proper.”
Her lips roll together. “Court me proper,” she repeats.
“That’s what I said.”
A smile is starting at the corner of her mouth and she’s fighting it. “And right now—”
“Right now I’m being a gentleman.”
She glances meaningfully at my groin, where my dick is visibly and undeniably hard, and tries to suppress a smile.
“You sure don’t look like a gentlemen,” she murmurs.
“Ignore that.”
“It’s a very substantial thing to ignore.” Her eyes dance with humor. “You should know, I don’t put out on the first date,” she teases. “Even if I’m married to him.”
“Oh, I’ll work for it, baby. That’s the whole point.”
She laughs and drops back against the pillow and looks at the ceiling and shakes her head slowly. “You are the most surprising man I have ever met.”
“Is that a yes?” I ask hopefully. “You’ll go out with me?”
“Considering I already said yes to your marriage proposal,” she says, “A date is a very easy yes.”
I kiss her again, victory humming through my veins.
Lucky chooses this moment to stand up, stretch elaborately, step directly on my leg, and jump off the bed. Not before giving the both of us a disapproving look.
Lila bites back a giggle as she tells the dog, “You don’t have to leave, sweetie.”
“Yes she does. Go on,” I tell Lucky. “I’ll have dinner for you soon.”
Her expression seems to brighten at that promise. We listen to her claws on the hardwood, the familiar sound of the doggy door in the laundry room swinging open and shut.
Then it’s just us.
The afternoon light has shifted, turning amber and warm. The house is quiet. Outside the clouds are drifting fast across the azure sky. It’s still cold and windy outside, but it’s heavenly warm in here, with Lila in my arms.
What kind of date would she like? The first thought that pops into my head is something like a fancy steakhouse, but I discount it almost immediately. She grew up with white tablecloths and fine dining and she’s bored of that.
I need to do better.
“How’s your ankle?” I ask.
“A lot better. I’d say I’m pretty much healed at this point.”
“Good. Then tomorrow, be ready at ten.”
“Ready how?”
“Warm layers. Boots you can move in.”
She turns her head to look at me. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I’m supposed to just get ready and not know where I’m going?”
I hide my smile at her excitement. “Yup.”
I can feel her thinking in my arms. “Are we going to get dirty doing it?”
“Extremely.”
The slow grin that spreads across her face is everything. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Why does making her happy make me so happy?
I’ve never felt anything like it. But I’m not about to question something that feels so good.
I want to spend every free moment with her.
I find myself thinking of ways to make her life better, how to make her happier.
I can’t wait to see her at the end of the day, and I can’t wait to wake up to her in the morning.
Maybe it’s a little intense for a fake marriage, but I’m an intense guy.
This time she’s the one who leans in to kiss me. We take it slow, leisurely. Making out like a couple of teenagers on the bed.
Being married is fucking awesome.
“Your shoulder,” she says, when we part. “How bad is it?”
“It’s fine.”
She turns onto her side to face me. “Slade.”
“It’s manageable.”
She sits up. “Let me see. Take your shirt off.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman,” I remind her. “Gonna be mighty difficult when my wife is in my bed, taking off my clothes.”
“Poor baby. Such a challenge. Would sure hate to see what happens when you lose that iron self-control.” Her eyes dance as she teases me. “Now strip.”
My cock twitches at her saucy little command.
I pull my henley over my head.
She moves behind me on the bed, up on her knees, and her hands find my shoulder immediately, warm and careful, fingers pressing gently into the joint, working along the muscle. I feel the tension start to release under her hands before I can stop it.
“Oh,” she breathes. “You’re so tense.” She sighs as she works into a knot that makes me exhale hard through my nose.
“It’s been worse.”
“That’s not reassuring.” Her thumbs press deep and I close my eyes and feel my head drop forward. Her hands move up into my neck, down across my shoulder blade.
She leans forward to reach across my shoulder. Her hair falls against my arm, silky and so sweetly scented I want to bury my face in it. My entire body is oriented towards her, every breath, every atom.
She shifts her position slightly and her hand brushes down my side, across my stomach, fingers trailing over the ridges of muscle there.
Then further down, over my belt buckle, the cold metal of it, and down further still.
Stroking along the length of me through the denim. My cock aches beneath her touch.
“Need some relief here?” she murmurs.
“Lila,” I say. It comes out wrecked. I’m trying, truly trying, to be a good man here, but I’m only human and my wife has apparently decided that tonight is not the night for me to be good. “I said I was gonna be a gentleman.”
“You can be a gentleman tomorrow,” she says, her lips moving against my shoulder. “Tonight I want to take care of you.”
“Taking care of you is my job.” Even as I say it I know I’ve already lost this particular argument, because she’s touching me and we both know I’m not going anywhere. “You’re my wife.”
“And you’re my husband.” Her hand presses firmer and I exhale through my teeth. “Which means it’s my job to take care of you too.” She tilts her head to look up at me, her dark eyes warm and certain. “Let me.”
Fuck it. I’m no gentleman.
I’m a simple man and my wife has her hand on my dick.
I’m not walking away from this.