I let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Oh yeah? I bet you have piles in like every drawer in the house too, huh?”
“Pretty much. Drove Stacey crazy.” He looks down. “Then again, not much I’ve done hasn’t.”
I grab his hand, squeezing his fingers. “I can always use more washcloths.”
The corners or his lips twitch and he breaks away from me, taking a step back. “I can always give some more away. Wait here.”
He takes off toward the stairwell, quickly rushing up the steps. Ten minutes later, he returns holding a small stack of crocheted squares. Two blue and three white with pink in the center. “You don’t really have to take them if you don’t want to.” He twists them at the corners.
“I think they’re perfect.” I collect them from his hands, running my fingers over the small holes. “Thank you.”
“You might not say that when you get one of those sweaters I was talking about for Christmas.”
I smile. “I’m actually looking forward to it.”
Blushing, his lips shift into a small grin, and when his phone vibrates, he groans. “We better get going. My mom’s texted me ten times since we’ve been here. Doesn’t matter if I’ve already told her I’ll be there soon, it’s clearly not soon enough.”
“She’s worried.”
“Yeah. She’s been worse ever since I got better. Everyone has. I was so ready to be treated like everyone else, only to realize that might never happen. I’m still not as well as they want me to be.”
“You look perfectly fine to me.” Inching closer, I caress his cheek.
His bottom lip trembles and I press my mouth gently to his, shoving my tongue alongside his. My hand snakes around his face and I kiss him deeper, thrusting faster into his mouth until we both have to pull apart for air.
“We really should go,” he says, voice hoarse.
“You mean before I have you naked in your kitchen again?”
“Yes, or somewhere worse.”
“You mean your and your wife’s bed?”
“I . . .” He fumbles his words. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. You think so loudly sometimes, there isn’t a need for words.”
He licks his lips, swallowing hard. “That’s an awful thing to think.”
“Tell me, Sunshine, has anyone ever made love to you in your bed before?”
His voice shifts as if he’s thinking long and hard about it. “We . . . I . . . No. The couch was always easier for me to get to, and Stacey has been too scared to touch me in that way for the last four years. And ever since the surgery, I’ve slept there mostly alone. We have opposite sleeping schedules.”
“You ever wonder what it would be like to be spread out over that mattress while having your hole eaten out or cock sucked?”
His breaths stutter. “I’d never wondered about those things at all until you, and now it’ll be all I think about. Everywhere we are. I don’t think about limits or rules when we’re together and I should.”
“Not always. Not when that’s what you lived by for most of your life. Not when you don’t have to. It’s only us here. Tell me what you want.”
He looks behind him and back at me. “For you to fuck me in my bed.”
“Not only your bed. Your and your wife’s bed. Where she now sleeps without you.” I don’t know why this keeps happening to me. Primal urges take over, and even though he’s been with me these last few days, I want to prove that I’m all he wants while we’re in their home too.
“Elijah . . .” His words trail off.
“That’s what it is, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but . . . it feels wrong.”
