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“Watch the--!”
THUD!
“...door,” Rachel finished a moment too late, trying desperately to conceal her laughter. Her fiance had just backed straight into the closed apartment door, causing the bag of groceries he’d been carrying in his hand to flip up into the air and spill its contents all over the hallway. Meanwhile, he rubbed his bruised head and shoulder, embarrassed and defeated.
Rachel couldn’t help but giggle. She covered her mouth with one hand and shut her eyes tightly, trying failingly to control herself.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny!” she exclaimed, still smirking. He shook his head good-humoredly.
“You’re going to Hell, you know that?” he asked, smiling in spite of himself as he bent over to retrieve the food that he’d spilt. “A little help, here?” he inquired, looking up at her.
The two picked up the numerous items-- a box of pasta, various spices, Pesto, crapes, pita, French bread, a crate of strawberries, and a bottle of chocolate sauce-- and entered their apartment.
The flat had changed considerably, aesthetically, in the 8 months since Ross had lived there alone. Almost immediately after Monica and Chandler moved away, Joey had picked up and left for California, leaving Rachel with no more excuses for being scared of taking that final step. She’d moved in with him not a month after they’d gotten back together. Three months after that, he’d proposed. The wedding was set for June.
In true Rachel fashion, she’d all but conquested the apartment when she moved in, adding her own little ‘girly things’, as Ross had called them. Truthfully, though, they weren’t THAT girly. Her ‘Excelsior’ print was mounted on the wall, now, along with sheer curtains in the living room and her afghan thrown over the back of the couch. She’d tossed her throw pillows around the living room, accompanied by silver picture frames displaying several black and white professional stills of them with Emma. They’d had them done in Central Park, not long ago.
When the phone rang, Rachel answered it, leaving Ross to put the groceries away in the kitchen.
“Hello?” she asked, out of breath from the laughing and teasing that had ensued after Ross’ little trip.
“It’s me,” Monica informed. “What’s up?”
“Oh, you know, not a lot. Just putting away some groceries.”
“What, no big Valentine’s Day plans?” Monica asked. “It’s like 7. I figured you guys would be out by now. I was just going to leave you a message.”
“Well, I could ask you the same thing. You and Chandler aren’t doing anything special?”
“No, we just decided to have a nice night in with the twins. Pretty, exciting, huh?”
“Oh, Mon, how old are we? That’s what Ross and I are doing, too. We DID at least give Emma to your parents for the night, though.”
“Ugh, that’s why they couldn’t take Jack and Erica! They said they already had plans!”
“Oh, sorry, Sweetie,” Rachel apologized, completely sincere.
“RACHEL!” she heard her name shouted from the kitchen, immediately followed by a loud, metallic clattering and several stifled curse words.
“Listen, Mon, I’ve got to go. You’re brother’s about to kill himself in there. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
She hung up the phone and reentered the kitchen to find Ross standing in the middle of the floor with about a dozen pots and pans scattered around him, only half the groceries put away, and the entire top row of cabinet doors swung wide open. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened.
“Man, what is WITH you, tonight?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and squatting down to pick up the mess.
“Goddamn cabinets,” he mumbled, bending down to help her. “You want to put the pasta on as soon as we get this cleaned up?” he asked.
“Alright, and I’ve got some, uh...stuff I’ve got to do, as well,” she revealed with a crooked grin, looking up to meet his eye. She smiled mischievously and he cocked an inquisitive eyebrow, unsure of what this woman had come up with now. She never ceased to amaze him.
“I see the wheels turning, and that’s never a good sign,” he joked. She held her mouth agape in mock pain.
“Anymore of that and you’re sleeping on the couch!” she warned.
“You wouldn’t dare...” he trailed off, kind of actually regretting the words as they left his mouth. He knew good and well she would dare.
“Is that a challenge?” she asked, the competitiveness emerging in her voice and her mouth twisting upwards into a wicked smile.
Instead of answering (because he knew he’d only dig himself into a hole if he did), he grabbed her swiftly around the waist and picked up her, carrying her out into the living room. She wiggled and squealed the whole way.
“This isn’t over!” she yelled, squirming in his hold. He held her tightly, though, enjoying her adorable protest and merely holding her against his chest above the couch, refusing to set her down on it. Her feet flailed and she tugged herself away, but to no avail. He chuckled amusedly.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she asked, stopping to catch her breath. He still wouldn’t let her go. Secretly, though, she didn’t really mind. She was actually enjoying this boyish display of agility and bicep strength. The man did have amazing biceps.
“Too much, I think,” he admitted, finally placing her down softly on the couch. Just to get a rise out of her, he smacked her ass as he let her go.
“Alright, you’ve won the battle,” she conceded, straightening her hair and shirt, “but the war is far from over.”
“Does this mean we’re not eating supper?” he asked, watching her as she stood up from the couch and brushed off her jeans.
“That’s not all you wont be eating...” she mumbled, turning to walk back into the kitchen and leave him, dumbfounded, with that. Before she could, though, he grabbed her by the upper arm. She felt shivers race up her spine, carrying pangs of excitement with them.
“Them’s fightin’ words, woman,” he whispered sexily and seductively into her ear, flicking the lobe with his tongue to underline his words. “You’d better play nice with your fiance on Valentine’s Day. He’s got something you want.” He emphasized this point by pressing his groin into her stomach. She felt herself tremble but remained in control.
“Oh, I think I’ve got something HE wants far more,” she wagered, attempting to hide the excitement that his proximity and this little game were stirring inside her.
“I think you’re right,” he breathed huskily against her ear, right before placing a big, sweeping kiss on the soft flesh of her neck.
She conceded to the feel of his arms wrapped around her waist and his tongue massaging her skin. She rubbed her hands up and down his back and shed the tough exterior she’d been masquerading this whole time. Their little game could be put on pause for just a few minutes.
“Mmm, that feels nice,” she admitted, smiling to no one in particular and tilting her head to the other side to give him better access. This man could perform miracles with that tongue.
He let his hands roam down over her ass, lifting her up and asserting himself between her thighs, which she clamped to his sides. She was hanging onto him now, deepening their kiss and massaging his scalp with her fingernails and getting completely lost in him.
He backed up and set down on the couch with her straddling him, allowing his hands to roam over her body and forgetting entirely about their former game or wagers or dinner. This would do for him for the rest of the night-- for the rest of his life.
She rubbed herself over his crotch and he moaned loudly, stroking her sides with his fingers and letting his hands slide up her back underneath her shirt. He knew this shouldn’t be happening before they’d even had dinner-- that did not bode well for the longevity of their evening-- but he couldn’t help it.
When he reached for her zipper out of instinct, she was stirred from her haze and pulled away, struggling for breath and placing her hands on his chest.
“Woah...,” she calmed, smiling at how out-of-control they could sometimes get with each other. “We’ve got to at least make it through dinner,” she teased.
“Ah, so this means there WILL be an after dinner to look forward to,” he grinned, proud of himself for having cracked her so easily. She cocked an eyebrow and slid off his lap, making sure to arch her back seductively and glide over a very specific part of him, causing him to moan in frustration. Proud of herself, she sauntered back into the kitchen.
“Don’t be too sure,” she threw at him, right before the door swung shut.
“Tease!”
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“Eh hem,” she cleared her throat.
Ross whirled around from where he was setting food onto the table to find her standing at the door, leaning against the frame. She was whirling a long, silky strand of hair around her finger and smiling roguishly. She was wearing nothing but a red see-through teddy. Ross struggled to catch his breath, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
“You...where...when did you get that!?” he exclaimed, wondering why he had never seen it before. She giggled and began ambling over towards him.
“Well, this WAS that ‘stuff’ I mentioned having to take care of before, but after you insulted me the way you did, I’m just not so sure if I’m in the mood for the rest of the surprise anymore...” she teased, shrugging casually but maintaining her steady stroll closer and closer to him.
He was frozen in place, able to do nothing but stare speechlessly at her. When she finally got in arm’s length of him, unable to take it anymore, he reached out and placed his hands on her waist, pulling her to him. He bent his head and buried his nose in her neck, smelling the sweet hint of perfume there. She decided to play along just for a few moments. She knew that would make what she had in store oh-so-much-more painful.
“You smell nice,” he expressed, kissing her neck lightly before moving up to work on her ear.
“I know,” she quipped, trying hard not to let his kisses or touches interfere with her plan. She couldn’t enjoy this moment for too long or she’d get swept up in it and her game would be ruined.
Before pulling away, she leaned up and planted a firm, drawn-out, deep kiss on his lips. It left him breathless, stunning him just long enough for her to push back from him and keep her composure intact.
“Hey, where are you going?” he asked, reaching for her. She pulled back, out of his reach, and shook a finger at him.
“Uh uh,” she warned teasingly. “It’s time for dinner.”
“I know,” he moaned frustrated. “and I know what I want...”
“Nope,” she maintained, shaking her head.
“Come on,” he pleaded, stepping to her. “It’s Valentine’s Day...” he trailed off, backing her against the wall beside the door of the kitchen. Reaching behind her, he flicked off the lights, leaving the room illuminated by nothing but the candles on the table. Gingerly and elegantly, he trailed his fingers down her sides, over her hips, across the sides of her thighs, and back up again. He kissed her face and pressed himself into her. “...You’ve got to be nice to me, today...” he informed, finishing his sentence.
“Oh, I think you know I can be very nice,” she whispered breathily and tantalizingly into his ear, tormenting him a little by massaging his back with her hands and kissing the side of his head. He reveled in the feeling of her hands on him, but knew it wouldn’t be that easy. “You’ve got to earn it, though,” she informed, pushing him away again.
“You’re killing me,” he whined, as she brushed past him to sit down at the table. “And you’re eating in that thing, too?”
“Maybe not...” she joked, and the full intention of her pun on ’eat’ hit Ross square in the chest. This was going to be a long night.
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Rachel had agreed to clean the dishes while Ross disappeared into the living room for a few moments. He said he had to check on something, and while she hadn’t questioned him much at the time, she was skeptical. Somehow, she had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t going to continue taking her little tease laying down. Ross was far too competitive for that. If she knew him at all, he was concocting something of his own right now.
As if on cue, Ross pushed through the swinging door of the kitchen, holding something behind his back with an impish smile on his face. Rachel cocked her head to the side questioningly, but continued with the dishes, trying to screen her growing interest.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” he asked, flicking the lights off again.
“It was delicious. Thanks again for cooking,” she casually replied. He came to stand directly behind her, almost touching her but not quite.
She glanced back over her shoulder and got a good look at him for the first time. He had changed from his casual sweater and jeans to a black silk pair of boxers. She gulped deeply. His skin was tanned and stretched tightly over his defined muscles. She was almost shaking with him standing so close to her, knowing that she couldn’t just surrender by turning around and kissing him. That’s exactly what she wanted to do, though.
“What’s that behind your back?” she asked, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that she was nearly drooling over him.
“Oh, just a little bit of vindication,” he mused, bringing the item around so Rachel could see it.
It was a long white feather.
Knowing fully well what his intentions were, now, Rachel took a deep breath and braced herself. If this man knew one thing that wasn’t science, it was the way around a woman’s body. Especially this woman’s body. That feather was to be considered a dangerous weapon in his hands.
“You know...” he began, resting his chin on her and placing his hands on the counter on either side of her, “competitiveness runs in the Geller bloodline.”
“I know,” she nodded, feeling the warm skin of his chest against her back, and averting her eyes over from the dishes to watch his hands. She still loved those hands. His fingers were so long and elegant, like a piano player’s.
“So don’t expect me to just roll over on this,” he continued, placing a big, open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder. She trembled. “I intend on getting something tonight...” he whispered, licking the skin on the back of her neck, now. “...and I don’t plan on giving up until I get it.”
Distracted, Rachel dropped the plate she’d been washing into the water and it smashed into the bottom of the sink with a reverberating crash. They both jumped, but Ross immediately began chuckling. Placing a reassuring hand on her stomach, he momentarily attempted to calm her rather than excite her. He rubbed her arm with the other hand and kissed the back of her head lovingly. He didn’t want to unnerve her too much. This was all just in fun and games. They both knew he’d never actually be rough with her or deprive her of anything.
“Am I getting to you?” he teased.
“Only as much as I’m getting to you,” she answered diplomatically, refusing to give into his touches.
“Wow, then you must be in serious pain,” he rebutted. Okay, that was cute. That earned him some major bonus points.
He was still holding his hand firmly against her stomach and stroking her arm. It felt nice, and she wanted nothing more than to lean backwards and melt into him, but this was far from over. She was enjoying this game too much to give up. They both were.
“So are you going to eat your words with that feather, or what?” she asked, nodding down to where he was holding the finger in his left hand against her stomach.
Secretly, she was curious about exactly what he was planning on doing with it. She knew it would be torturous and exhausting, but she also knew he’d stop if it made her too uncomfortable. They never crossed that boundary with each other. They could be as playful as anyone, but they loved each other far too much to go on with it if they both weren’t enjoying it.
In response to her question, he brought the feather up and ran it diagonally across her cheek, tickling her skin. With the other hand, he held her bicep tightly, not letting her get away.
“I think you know I’m a man of my word,” he whispered, punctuating it by blowing softly into her ear.
He moved the feather down from her face to her neck, running it slowly over her skin there, and then over her shoulders. She was quivering, and he thought he even heard a tiny moan escape her lips.
“This is so unfair,” she all but whined. “There was no touching involved in my teasing.”
“A-ha! So you admit you’re a tease!” he announced. “And then what do you call all that half-naked kissing we were doing right over there?” he asked, gesturing towards the door of the kitchen.
“Hey, you initiated that! As I recall, you’ve initiated all of the touching so far ton--” she was cut off by the sensation of the feather running down between her breasts, following closely by his fingers.
“Of course I’m going to touch you,” he whispered, matter-of-factly. “Look at you...”
Wow, more bonus points being earned by the moment.
The feather journeyed from her breasts down to her stomach, back around to the small of her back, even lower to her ass, over the backs of her thighs, and back around to the front. He settled it between her thighs, just short of where they met. Both of their heartbeats were racing. He was gripping her arm intensely and she was bracing herself tightly by the counter.
“You know, you could just give up,” he informed jokingly, but he thought he might actually have a chance. Rachel was stubborn, but people can do very out-of-character things when tense.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she replied.
Snapping out of the retreat she’d settled into for the past few minutes, she pushed him backwards and regained her poise and breath. He whined, frustrated, and sat down at the table. He really though that might have been the end of it. He should have known better. Rachel wouldn’t give up until she’d won, and even with as aggressive as he usually was, he didn’t know how long he could keep this up with her. His stamina and will-power never lasted as long when she was involved. Like it or not, most of the power was going to stay in her court.
Collected, she was ready to continue with the game. She knew Ross was almost to his breaking point. She saw the way he was looking at her now-- so passionate and needy...and lovingly. God, he loved her. Before the infatuation with her body, or the addiction to her intricacies, or the obsession with the way she made him feel...he loved that girl so much. Simply and innately.
It almost made her feel bad to tease him like this, but she knew he liked it. She wouldn’t keep it up for too much longer.
“You know, Ross...” she embarked, walking over to where he was sitting and placing herself on his lap. “We could just forget all about this little game.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked hopefully. She couldn’t hide her smile. He was too cute. At her suggestion, his eyes lit up like a little boy’s in a candy store. He wrapped one arm around her waist and sat a hand on her thigh, hoping to God this wasn’t just another little ploy.
“Yup,” she nodded. “It won’t take much, either...”
She shifted positions so she was, once again, straddling him. The last time he’d found himself in this position, it hadn’t ended exactly the way he’d hoped. His brain and his heart (and his penis, for that matter) were very separate entities, though, and he could feel himself falling faster and faster. She kissed his nose, and then his eyes and forehead. He closed his eyes and breathed in her smell.
“Consider it done...” he trailed off, running his hands up her thighs and back around under her ass.
“All you have to do...” she whispered slowly, rocking her hips and leaning forward to kiss his ear, “...is...” Pause.
“What!?” he all but yelled. He was slipping faster and farther and God he hoped she wasn’t just fucking with him because he was past the point of no return and whatever it was she wanted he’d do it and if she got up now he just might have to kill himself...
“...is admit that I always win...” she finally finished, rocking against his crotch one last time and causing him to groan.
“Oh my God, you always win,” he slurred together, panting and relieved that was all it was going to take. Picking her up, he carried her out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom, her giggling the whole way.
She might have made some jibing comment about how ‘that’s what she thought’, but he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t hear or understand anything except how she was making him feel. This foreplay had lasted well over 3 hours, and he’d never been so anxious or excited or aroused or drunk on her.
Once in the pitch-black room, he threw her onto the bed and climbed on top of her, delighting in the girlish squeals she was exuding. As much as his mind was telling him to rip that sexy red thing off of her and fuck her until neither of them could walk, his heart was telling him to be patient, selfless, and take his time.
Breathless, he tore his lips from hers. He watched her eyes spring open and her face contort in confusion and frustration, her mouth emanating a soft moan.
“Come back here,” she panted, placing her hands behind his head and pulling him back down into an equally passionate kiss. He placated her for a few more seconds, but then pulled back again, putting his finger to her mouth this time.
“One second,” he informed, getting up from the bed. He crossed the room and fiddled with the CD player for a moment, returning to her when he heard the first soft, crooning notes bellow from the speakers. Van Morrison was singing about love.
She's as sweet as tupelo honey. She’s an angel of the first degree. She's as sweet-
she’s as sweet as tupelo honey. Just like honey, baby, from the bee.
She smiled when she realized what the song was, remembering briefly how he’d once told her, so many years ago, that he thought it was the most romantic one that had ever been written. He smiled knowingly in return and nodded, as if to say ‘that’s right, I remember, too’, and quickly preoccupied himself again with kissing her.
Their kisses were all variations on a theme-- each a little different, but so familiar and unique to only them. He kissed her long and deep, following it quickly with a few small butterfly kisses on her cheek or chin, and then returning to bite and suck on her lower lip. He loved kissing her-- it had always been what he’d missed most about physical intimacy with her when they’d been apart. You can fuck just anyone-- kissing Rachel was in a category all its own.
You cant stop us on the road to freedom. You cant keep us, ‘cause our eyes can see. Men with insight , men in grid irons, knights in armor bent on chivalry.
She quivered beneath him, drinking in his scent and touch. He ran his hand painfully slow up her thigh...
She’s as sweet as tupelo honey. She’s an angel of the first degree. She’s as sweet as tupelo honey. Just like honey, baby, from the bee.
When he reached the top, he slid his fingers beneath the lacy fabric and over her ass, closing his eyes and remembering, now, how passionate and love-filled their first Valentine’s Day had been together. So far, he didn’t think that one could even compare to this. He’d worshiped her then...but he loved her now.
You can take all the tea in china, put it in a big brown barrel for me, sail right round all the seven oceans, drop it straight into the deep blue sea.
She separated her thighs for him and let him position himself between them. He released his weight from his elbows and let it all sink into her, her body supporting his entirely. Oddly, even for as small as she was, it didn’t hurt. It felt wonderful, as a matter of fact. She ran her hands up and down his back, through his hair, over his ass. They laid that way for a long while, kissing and touching, almost forgetting there was even more to be done. It seemed impossible to be anymore connected.
Another song began playing softly in the background.
You’re my woman.
And you’re my woman.
You bore my child, lord.
You bore my child, lord.
I want to thank you.
I want to thank you.
And no one else will do.
And no one else will do.
His mind retreated momentarily to their daughter. The baby they’d made-- the one she’d had for him. At the time, she may not have thought of it as his baby, but he always had. He recalled how he used to whisper that to himself at night towards the end of her pregnancy. ‘Rachel’s having my baby’. It had been unbelievable to him then, and even now, it still took his breath away sometimes to think about.
He opened his eyes and looked down into hers, so big and wet and blue. He ran his hands over the flat of her stomach and looked down between them at her naked body. She still looked just as beautiful as she had when they were doing this at 26-- maybe even better, now.
Baby, you, you are my sunshine.
I am your guiding light.
To like a ship out in the night.
Returning for a light.
He reached down to where their bodies met and looked into her eyes for reassurance-- asking timidly if now was okay. He couldn’t believe he was actually being shy with her. An hour ago, he would have been content to bend her over the kitchen counter. Now, though...now seemed different. The tone of the evening had changed from playful and sexy to loving and tender. She wasn’t just some amazingly hot, naked girl he wanted to fuck...she was Rachel. His Rachel.
I love you.
I really love you.
My heart is for you.
My heart is for you.
I long to feel you.
I long to feel you.
And every time I do.
And every time I do.
And every time I do.
His Rachel.
And it’s really real.
The way I feel.
It’s really real.
Look into my eyes.
Look into my eyes.
And you realize.
And you realize.
She nodded and kissed his cheek, sighing with relief when he slid into her. Somehow, they both always felt a little more like themselves when he first did that. It felt so natural-- like they were both incomplete without being connected this way. Every time seemed surprisingly different, but a reprieve.
He thought of the first time he’d made love to her. He could evoke every minute detail of that night on demand, and they’d often haunted him in the post-ultimate months of their first relationship. Now, they served as a refuge, not a tormentor. He recalled the way her face had contorted slightly as he’d entered her, half from pleasure and half from discomfort, and the immediate feeling of anxiousness but also pride that had flooded over him in that moment.
That first time, in many ways, was much like this time-- sweet and delicate and slow. He watched how her chest rose and fell, sticky sweat beginning to accumulate as she worked to meet his intensifying thrusts. Her mouth was slightly agape and she looked deeply pensive and determined, as if she wanted every movement they made together to be a piece of the whole perfect puzzle.
He smiled at her and brushed an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. He loved how she could bring her determination even into sex. It kept him honest and reminded him of how resolute Rachel could be-- how strong. Sometimes, like now, he felt like she was the one protecting him. Though he was positioned over her, her form diminutive beneath his strong, muscular one, there was something symbolic in the way she was cradling him. Very nurturing, just like her.
He listened to Van repeat the words he had to remind himself of every day.
And you’re my woman.
And you’re my woman.
And you’re my woman.
And you’re my woman.
Their pace was still slow, and he was fighting with himself to keep it that way for a little while, wanting this to last as long as possible. Though he knew they’d undoubtedly make love several more times tonight, he knew this was the key time. In a way, it would set the tone for their proceeding months as fiances.
He bent his neck and kissed her cheek...her eyes...her nose...her mouth.
And you’re my woman.
“I am,” he heard her whisper, and he couldn’t help but almost chuckle. He felt suddenly very...warm. Comforted in the affirmation.
Eventually, as they always did, the pair became more needy. Their rhythmic, even pace sped and strengthened and their soft moans and pants echoed around the room. She watched the veins in his arms pulsate on either side of her head as he used them to propel himself. She watched the muscles in his back and shoulders shift, and admired how toned he was, and yet, how humble. He truly was one of the last decent men, she considered.
Meanwhile, right before it was over, Ross spent his final few moments of coherency with his face buried in her chest, kissing the space between her breasts and focusing all of his attention on hitting that one area inside her that he knew did it for her. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a selfish lover. More than anything, he always wanted Rachel to be happy and satisfied, and this time was no different. Her loudening breathing and sighs rooted him on, and he felt her hands glide over his back a few times as he finished, collapsing on top of her.
They laid that way for a few extended moments, listening to a combination of each other’s heartbeats struggle to even out and the rustling and bustling of the city streets below. Periodically, beams from headlights would crawl across the room and over their bodies, illuminating their tangled limbs and sliding across their skin. Finally, Ross pulled the mess of covers around them and turned on his back to cradle her against his chest.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispered, kissing her forehead and closing his own eyes.
“You too,” she smiled. She cuddled up closer next to him and laid her head in the nook between his bicep and chest. She ran her hands over his stomach and arms, feeling the stickiness that they’d created there together.
“I bet you regret holding out on me for so long now,” Ross wagered jokingly, referring to the way she’d teased him all night.
“I bet you regret having doubted me,” she rebuked. She was right. He had regretted it-- badly. Rachel always won.
“Alright, from now on, I won’t underestimate you,” he assured.
“Damn right.” He could hear the grogginess settling into her voice, and he knew it was almost time for sleep.
“I hope you don’t think this was it,” he joked. “I’m expecting plenty more out of you later tonight, lady.” He underscored his joke by patting her playfully on the ass, but he could feel himself fighting off sleep as well. Their lovemaking had been long and draining, physically and emotionally, and the truth was that he loved just sleeping with her in his arms almost as much as he loved making love to her.
“Wake me up when you’re ready,” she teased, and he could see her lips turn upwards into a smile as she rolled over with her back to him and settled into her pillow. He wrapped his arms around her and spoon her, kissing her neck and cheek.
“We’ve still got it,” she heard him whisper, just before they both succumbed to the drowsiness of slumber.
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