Page 108 of My Husband Problem

I take a little breath. He says nothing, not moving to interrupt or ask a question or even breathe too hard.

“I stole this shirt from your closet before I left Portland. I wear it every single night in bed. And I bathe with your body wash at night before bed. That way I have your scent all around me. It really helps with the fantasy.”

I lean in and put my nose against his shirt, rubbing my face back-and-forth and inhaling deeply. I haven’t been able to freely do this, and it’s absolute bliss. “I fucking love the way you smell.”

I’m standing close enough that I can hear and feel the deep, shaky breath he takes.

His hand moves from my cheek to the back of my head. “Jesus, you have no idea what you do to me, Firework.”

I tip my head back to look up at him. “Firework?”

“I won’t use that if you don’t like it,” he tells me.

“I just don’t know where it comes from.”

His gaze flicks toward the couch. “You were so hot, and absolutely beautiful, and you went off so fast. And were a little loud…”

His meaning is clear, and my cheeks flush hot instantly. I bury my face against his shirt and laugh. “Oh, my God.”

His fingers curl into my hair. “Best moment of my life,” he says.

That cannot be true, but I don’t protest the words.

Instead, I decide to enjoy this closeness and show him that I mean what I say. I want him. And I definitely want him to stay. I lift my hands and rest them on his waist, then slide to his back, stroking my palms up and down.

He breathes deeply in and out, and then I feel his chin on the top of my head.

We just stand there for a moment, absorbing the feel of one another.

Eventually, he says, “You’re in charge of this, Firework. Whatever happens, you lead.”

I didn’t expect anything else, but I feel some tension ease from my shoulders hearing him say it anyway. I turn my head and rest my cheek against his chest. “I guess the thing is, I’m not sure how it’s going to go. And the truth is, we could be going along, and everything is fine, and then something could not be fine suddenly.”

His other hand comes to rest on my lower back, and he strokes back-and-forth slowly, comfortingly. “I’m okay with that. Whatever happens, I’m okay with it. This is amazing.”

I smile, tipping my head to look up at him. “You want to just cuddle?”

He doesn’t smile. He gives me a serious look. “Yes. If that’s what you need. If that’s all I can have.”

I press my face into his chest. That, maybe more than anything, makes me want so much more.

“Trust me, I want everything. I just really hope I can have it.”

I realize that I have been so overwhelmed with emotion and the sensations of being held by him this way, up against him the first time and sharing this quiet, intimate moment, that I didn’t realize until just now that he is hard. As in aroused. As in his cock is big and hard and pressed against me. And oh wow, I like that.

Without really thinking about it, I press closer.

If I wasn’t standing as close as I am, I might’ve missed the way he sucks in a quick little breath. But the man who is always in control holds on to his composure and says, "We’re going to work on everything. I want you to have everything.”

“Good.” I’m totally distracted by the hardness against me. “That’s really good.”

The corner of his mouth curls up in a sexy little smile as I press against him again.

“Do you want to tell me about your therapy? I want to know how far along in the process you are.”

Right. He did some reading.

“It’s going really well. I’ve been using dilators.” I pause. “Do you know what those are?”