Sex on a Schedule – By Arianna Quinn #2
Since Emily and I made love for the first time when she came back into my life last summer, I haven’t stopped thinking about what it would be like to find out we’re pregnant and watch our baby grow inside her.
It’s like a damn obsession of mine lately.
We talked about it, of course, but we haven’t decided on the right time to start trying.
The kids are getting used to having me in their lives.
They made a permanent move to Nashville, to the home I bought.
My schedule will always be hectic. Emily still has things to take care of in Maryland. But now, now it truly feels right.
The moment I woke up this morning, I knew I was going to ask Emily if she would consider stopping her birth control.
Today’s breakfast is supposed to boost fertility.
One meal won’t make a difference, but if we’re going to try, we might as well eat this stuff and do everything we can.
Which includes not having sex every day, so that my swimmers can be as healthy as possible.
And now I’m back to my original problem.
How do I resist Emily when she gives me the ‘let’s sneak into the bedroom’ look, or how she chooses the most random moments to whisper in my ear how much she wants to feel me inside her, or when she just breathes and I ache for her?
Charlie tucks his chin to his chest, and his shoulders shake. None of us say anything, and watch, waiting.
“No one said anything funny.” Rip looks around, and back to Charlie.
Emily watches Charlie. She smiles, and then she’s giggling along with him. Tyler snickers. Rip grins.
I start to chuckle, too. “Are you going to share?”
He shakes his head. “Are you?”
“What’s with the talking in code? Spit it out.” Tyler flicks Charlie’s arm.
When Charlie calms, he pushes his chair back, and stands. He lays the cloth napkin from his lap next to his empty plate. “Thank you for the fertility food, but I have to go get ready for the day.”
Rip scans the table. “Fertility food?”
“I don’t know what the fuck I have to get ready for, but I’ll go, too, and yes, thanks for the fertility food.” Tyler also stands.
Fucking Charlie. I didn’t talk to Tyler about my plans because he’s still sore about him not being a dad yet, and when Emily returned, she had two little ones with her, making me an instant father. Tyler will be one, one day. Heck, he’ll be a better dad than me.
“Is this a gardening thing?” Rip asks, inspecting an empty oyster shell and dropping it back on the ice.
When they leave, Emily insists on calling my dad to talk to the kids. James asks if he’s been to the Hollywood Bowl before and if they serve Ramen there, and Victoria is worried Molly, our one-hundred-pound pot-bellied pig back in our house outside of Nashville, misses us.
“I’m going to take a shower first. Want to join me?” Emily says, pulling her pajama top over her head.
Yes.
I point at the table with the almost empty platters and used plates and utensils. “No. I think I’ll clean up a bit.”
Emily blinks. Then sets her hands on her hips. Even upset, she’s sexy in her white lace bra and pajama shorts.
“Alright, what’s going on? Who are you and what have done with my man?”
Emily
Squaring my shoulders and widening my stance, imitating the memory of my drill sergeant in boot camp all those years ago, I ask again, “What is going on?”
It’s like I went to bed with my Derek and woke up with this out-of-sorts version of him.
Whatever version, he’s still hot, with his dark blonde hair and brown eyes, hard jawline, and perfectly proportioned lips.
Damn, those lips know how to kiss every part of my body.
His kisses are like drops of an addictive elixir, and all they make me want to do is climb his tall, muscular six-foot-two frame, hang onto his giant biceps and rub my face over every inch of his white skin.
“Angel?” Derek says, a bit more of the man in control of himself I’m familiar with.
I think he was telling me what’s going on, and instead, I’m picturing myself swinging off his arms like a human raised in a jungle. Three weeks is the longest we’ve gone without being under the same roof.
“Yes?” I say, forcing myself to keep my gaze on his face, not his broad shoulders and chest.
“I said we can talk after your shower.” He gives my half-naked body an appreciative once over and moves toward the table where he offered to clean up, which is nice but unnecessary. Is it me he’s avoiding? Nope, not possible. Well, if he’s playing a shy game, I’m not giving in so easily.
“Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” I stay where I stand, removing my pajama bottoms, and wait for him to turn around.
“No, it’s okay.” He’s hyper focused on the dishes, and not in my direction.
I’ll have to try something else.
I start the shower, leaving the glass door open. Once the water is warm enough, I get in and dip under the spray, letting it soak my hair. I check my legs for any evidence of our reunion sex last night, and bingo.
“Derek, come here,” I call out. There’s no answer. “Hey, cowboy, get over here.”
Crossing his arms, he leans against the door frame. “Everything okay?”
“Look.” I wave him over. He steps into the bathroom, and I open the shower door, letting in way too much cool air. I lift my thigh and point to dark, round marks on the inside. “You left four perfect bruises.”
His eyes go wide, and his nostrils flare. “Uh, uh, uh.”
I fist his white V-neck undershirt, and look up at him. “I like it when you do that. Makes me feel marked. Reminds me who I belong to.”
His lids droop like I’ve weaved a love spell on him. He leans towards me. There he is.
Our lips meet. He seals our mouths together, and because I’m not enjoying being teased, when he parts to slip his tongue inside me, I break off and kiss his throat.
“Angel,” he says in that deep, throaty baritone that travels straight to my core.
I hum in appreciation, bunching up the front of his shirt with my wet hands and moving it up his chiseled abs. “Get in here with me.”
He grips my elbows, stilling my desperate attempt to get him naked. “Please.” He closes his eyes and when he opens them, his brow furrows and he steps away from my grasp. “We have to talk, but not here. Finish your shower, and I’ll be waiting for you.”
He closes the door for me, and my mind races.
Is he leaving again so soon? Since we’ve been together, he’s been religious about keeping his promise to come home when he has two days in a row free.
A few times this past year, he couldn’t make it with his schedule, but he’s never been gone more than a week and a half.
I’ve flown the kids out to see him if it’s looking like it will be too long before he comes home.
In the last three weeks, it was impossible to coordinate schedules and see him.
And if he has to leave again, I’ll understand.
It’s what I signed up for when I fell for the famous Muddy Boots frontman… again. Doesn’t mean I won’t miss him.
Wrapping my hair in a towel and my body in a robe, I walk out of the bathroom to find Derek sitting on the edge of the bed, his wet shirt gone and his tattoos on display, watching me with a barely there smile on his lips.
Shit. He’s leaving. Okay, I can do this.
He pats the bed next to me.
I clear my throat from the emotion threatening to take over. “We’ll go on the road with you. We’ll home school the kids. We’ll be there,” I blurt out.
His eyes sparkle. “You really want to?”
“I do,” I answer. Immediately, reality dampers my enthusiasm. “But that’s me being selfish and thinking of me. James is so happy at his school. Did he tell you the teacher chose him to be buddies with the new boy in his class? He was singing and dancing about it when he got home.”
Derek’s entire face lights up with the smile he reserves for his son. “He did.”
He links his fingers with mine and sobers.
“I love you. I love James. I love Victoria. Growing up, it was just Jesi and me, but when my dad introduced us to Tyler, I had an instant brother, and it made our home more fun. Our house grew louder, and we all became a part of something bigger, if that makes sense.” He runs his fingers through his hair.
“I know I’ve said this before, and it’s really why I want a big family.
I want more. And we’ve been hesitating around the right time, but it will never be perfect. It’s time we truly start trying.”
My breath stalls in my chest, and my palms dampen. It’s not that I don’t want to have more children. It’s the thought of what if we do and he can’t be there with us—or worse, decides not to be with me anymore. I shove the ridiculous thought aside.
We love each other. We’ve been through so much together, and we won’t fall apart because life throws us challenges. We’re ready to take on anything together, including growing our family. And it’s not news to me, but the way he’s been acting off, and the set firm of his jaw, means this is it.
“I think it’s time. I don’t want to wait another month to try.
” He squeezes my hand. “But I know this is asking a lot of you, and given our history, and how you were on your own when James was born, I want to be there, for as much as I can. I talked it over with the guys and after this tour is done, we’ll ease up on our commitments.
I think it’s the right time if we start now. What do you say?”
“I love you.”
He grins. “Is that your way of saying yes?”
I drop my head and stare at my lap. The towel on my head unravels, and Derek catches it. He stands and hangs it in the bathroom. He comes back with my comb in his hand and waits for me at the entrance of the bathroom.
“Come here.”
He asks me to sit on the plush white vanity seat. He stands behind me and combs my hair, not once pulling on it.
“You’re good at this.”
He smiles at me through the mirror. “I’ve had practice.”