Page 212 of Spicy Ever After
“Yeah, I think we broke a few records.” He kisses the top of my head. “Next time, I’ll be able to slow down.”
I huff. “I make no such promises.”
My boyfriend laughs and squeezes me tighter.
The moon has cleared the tree line, and even though it’s not totally full, it’s close, and with almost no clouds tonight, it illuminates us like a spotlight.
Thank you, moon, I silently think. I’ve missed looking at him, and we’re in no hurry anymore.
I run a lazy hand through Beck’s hair, and when he moans, I give him my nails, scratching gently.
“Oh, God,” he groans.
“Good?” I ask, firming my touch, moving into a scalp massage.
“Mmm.” I feel him relax a little more, and it’s only then I realize how much tension his body is holding.
I move down to his neck and then one shoulder. I’ve felt frying pans with more give.
And I know I blurted that thought when he chuckles again and mutters, “That’s about right.”
I roll onto my back and take him with me. Chest to chest, he sinks into me, giving both of my hands a proper go at his muscles.
“Jeez. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on these things,” I say, digging the heels of my hands into his shoulders.
He just grunts.
This man.
My man.
The way I see it, he’s spent his whole adult life taking care of everything and everybody. First, his mom. Then his dad. This farm. His crew. And now he wants to give up his future so he can make sure all of these people have what they need.
What about what he needs?
I consciously keep my mouth shut while these thoughts run rampant. But I hope my touch speaks for itself. I hope the position of our bodies isn’t lost on him.
You can lean on me.
And something must penetrate, because, little by little, his muscles under my hands ease and his weight sinks a little deeper onto me.
His breathing evens out. The rising moon has the perfect view of my strong, tireless boyfriend crashed out asleep in my arms.
But it’s a long time before I close my own eyes.
Because one of the things my time at Summit House taught me was that there are way more options out there than meet the eye.
There isn’t just one way to work. One way to live. One way to be.
And just because ninety percent of the species does things one way, that doesn’t mean it’s the right way.
Not even for them, but certainly not for people like me.
Being in the minority doesn’t mean being inferior.
Maintaining the status quo doesn’t lead to breakthroughs.
And, I could be wrong, but I might just have a breakthrough for the man I love.
