Chapter 2

Calmer now, Aaron slides between the sheets. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It is, because he’s here again. He’s next to me and, when I roll over, he’s in my arms, and of course it’s okay now, of course it’s fine. I hug him close, his arms around my waist, his head against my chest, and pull him to me. If I can’t have more tonight, I’ll take what I can get.

He’s trembling and, when I kiss him, his lips taste like toothpaste. I feel his hands fist in the small of my back as he whispers, “I wantto, Chris, don’t think I don’t. I just…I don’t know, I can’t.”

“It happens,” I say, like I’m not disappointed, but it’s never happened to us before and I’m mad, though not at him. It isn’t hisfault. “Maybe it’s just stress…”

I trail off because I don’t know what it is. He was fiery and fierce earlier, kissing and stroking and all over me, and then poof!Nothing. Nothing at all.

“I don’t know.” His breath tickles my nipple, and damn it the fuck, I’m getting hard again. Just by holding him. He does that to me.

When he tries to pull away, I hold him tighter. “Let me hold you,” I tell him. He sighs because he knows I’m mad. “Jesus, at least give me that.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, burrowing against my neck. His skin is so soft beneath my hands and if I hug him any closer, he’ll be behind me.

“It’s okay.” I kiss his forehead but they’re little kisses, I don’t want to get myself worked up for nothing. “Maybe in the morning?”

Lie to me if you have to,I want to add. Give me something to look forward to, at least.

We’ve been together long enough that he can practically read my mind, or maybe he feels my erection pressing against his thigh and he feels bad. I hopehe feels bad, because I sure as hell do, I feel fucking horrid, and it’s all his fault.

No, I shouldn’t think shit like that—I’m frustrated and horny, and I hate feeling like this. It isn’t his fault.

“We can try again in a little while, if you want,” he offers.

I love him, I do. This time when I kiss him, he leans back, pressing his lips to mine as if he wantsme to ache all night long. “When you’re ready,” I say.

He draws intricate patterns along my back, moves his leg against my cock until it’s a steel rod between us, then kisses down my chest, biting playfully at my nipples and swirling his tongue around my belly button. “Aaron,” I gasp when he rolls me over onto my back and takes me into his mouth. He’s warm and wet and I’m so close, all I need is a few hard thrusts into him before I come, fisting my hands in his hair and relieved, oh Godrelieved, because at least I got it out of my system. At least I got a little something from him tonight.

“I love you,” I breathe as he crawls back into my arms. His mouth is sour from my juices but I smother him with kisses and tell him he’s my boy, because he is, and I love him, because I do.

* * * *

In the morning we’re running late—we don’t even get a chance to cuddle before the alarm goes off and I have to get ready for work. I’m tempted to call in sick; the office wouldn’t miss me, what’s one day? But Aaron has a safety meeting first thing and this week is his morning shift, so he has to get moving, too. “Get off,” he says with a push to get me out of bed.

I laugh and roll into a sitting position, then lean over to kiss the tip of his nose. “Come and get me off.”

He blinks at me owlishly, eyes wide and sleepy, hair all mussed so it sticks up every which way. As my words sink in, he pouts. “Again already?”

“You’re cute,” I tell him, and that makes him smile. It’s as close as either of us get to mentioning last night.

In the bathroom I brush my teeth, peering into the mirror that’s already fogging up from Aaron’s shower. “Can you turn that off?” he asks, raising his voice over the sound of rushing water. “I don’t have any pressure here.”

Spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, I rinse my mouth and turn off the faucet. Then I lean over the counter, dangerously close to the mirror, and study the dark smudge of my hair. It’s cut as short as it can possibly be and still be considered hair, but I see the ends are beginning to curl already and I want to shave the whole mess off again. “I need a haircut,” I say, not because Aaron cares, but just to talk. I like when it’s the two of us alone and we don’t talk about anything but stupid shit. I can pretend we’ve been married for years, we’re that comfortable with each other, which makes me hope that one day we really aremarried and we’re still like this. I want that more than anything else out of life.