I sit down opposite him and just listen… and watch. The visual is almost as incredible as the instantaneous music that he creates. I watch as the veins and muscles in his arms and hands tighten with each effortless movement. His foot taps to the beat as he finds his groove, his body in complete sync with the melody he’s created. He starts to hum something, fiddling with a few chords, and then he mumbles some lyrics I’ve never heard before.
Dreams remain, but we resent
Forevers change, with one regret
“What’s that, babe?” I ask, curious because the way he sings it is sinfully beautiful. With meaning and feeling and depth.
He breaks out of what I’ve come to recognize as a creative trance, his hand resting over the strings as if to silence them.
I wish he’d continue. I want more. “Why’d you stop?”
He shakes his head and stands, returning the guitar to its place on the wall. He swaggers toward me with his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on my lips. Sensing the heat of his stare, I suck my lip into my mouth, biting on it. As if watching him play wasn’t sexy enough, now he’s got the smolder going on? I can’t help but think that my other reason for creating this secluded space is about to be proven completely ingenious.
“I stopped because it’s not finished yet. You can hear it when it’s done.” He’s inches away from me now, his sweet breath tickling my already pleasure-prickled skin.
I reach up, locking my hands behind his neck, looking hard into his eyes. It’s still there. The pain. There’s so much we need to say, but not tonight. I’ll give him that. We can take pleasure in this moment and just be us again.
I want more than anything to sit down, lock myself away and play with chords and riffs and put those words to the music that’s been banging around in my head, but what I want even more is to make love—no, to fuck my wife. Even after almost a week of single-handed kid-duty, she looks incredibly sexy and just telling her won’t be enough. She needs me to show her how incredible she is. How incredible it feels to be able to call her mine… again.
“Mi, I missed you.” I know she understands I’m not just talking about these last few days. Will I ever get used to having her back without worrying she’ll be gone again at some point? God, I hope so. Because living in anticipation of the other shoe dropping is no way to live.
Her cocoa brown eyes glisten with tears—she’s reading my mind. This woman owns my soul—it’s hers to navigate. I belong to her. I always have.
She presses her body against mine and whispers, “I missed you, too, babe.” Her fingers burrow into the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me down to her mouth. I love when she takes control, knowing exactly what I need—what we need from each other.
The urgency to take her overcomes me and I grip her from behind, lifting her off the floor. She lets out a beautiful gasp and wraps her legs around my body as our kiss goes from sweet to hungry. Years and years of kissing the same woman and it never gets old. It’s still as fucking magical as that first time—under the streetlights, at that bus stop, the words to I Want You swimming in my head as we got lost in how good we fit together.
I echo the words that are stuck in my head. “Baby, I want you so bad,” I growl, my mouth still open over hers.
“I want you, too,” she says, breathless, her forehead pressed against mine.
Lifting her in my arms, I whip her around and then set her down on the nearest surface. One that won’t be ruined with DNA and all that fun stuff.
“Here, babe? You don’t want to go up to the bedroom?”
“What fun is that? We can give this room a dual purpose,” I say, sliding her yoga pants down over her ass to find a nice surprise. “Commando? You walk around like this all day?”
I grab her bare behind as she lets out a musical giggle. “Desperate housewife with a dirty mind. It makes me feel sexy.”
“Babe,” I cup her chin in my hand and look into her eyes, “you don’t need to walk around pantyless to prove how sexy you are. You do know that, right?”
Gripping my wrist, she guides my hand between her legs, leans in and says, “Enough talking. This sexy mama is horny.”
“Good,” I whisper into her ear at the same time as I insert a finger inside her, “because I can think of a million ways to satisfy you.”
“Mmmmm,” she moans as I rub my thumb against her in circles, her legs opening wider as she gives in to the pleasure. Her head falls back with her eyes closed, and her bottom lip between her teeth—she’s gorgeous, she’s sexy, and she’s all fucking mine.