A towel was wrapped around his hips, but each step revealed the long line of his thigh, and drops of moisture clung to the dark hair that feathered over his pecs. The marks I’d put on his body had darkened as I’d suspected they would, one almost welt-like that bisected his diaphragm—how had I done that?—and I felt guilty.
And then I got pissed. I had no reason to feel guilty. I wasn’t the one who hadn’t called in Four. Fucking. Weeks.
He paused when he saw the lamp on and me sitting up in bed. “I’m sorry I woke you, babe.”
“You were in such a rush to wash my touch off your body?”
“You know if I didn’t have to go to work, I’d lay around the house all day with your scent on me.” Wills didn’t seem to realize I was angry with him all over again. Had he even realized I’d been angry to begin with?
I focused on the first part of his statement, ignoring the last part, and glared pointedly at the clock. “But you don’t have to go to work for almost another three hours.”
“If I go in early and work through lunch, I should be able to catch up on most of the paperwork that piled up while I was away; and I’ll be able to leave early.” He took out clean underwear, dropped the towel, and stepped into his shorts.
“Really? You’ll come home early?” My anger evaporating, I watched hungrily as he finished dressing.
“Theo, I’d be home early today if I had to walk over Mr. Vincent to get here.” He repeated what he’d said on Valentine’s Day, and he came to me and kissed my ear.
“You would?” I didn’t know what was so special about today, maybe just the fact that he was home and we were together again, but what did it matter? I hugged him. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a prick. I’ll make us Cornish game hens with apricot, port, and balsamic sauce, acorn squash, and…and biscuits?”
“That sounds great.” Wills gave a wan smile. He didn’t like squash, but I couldn’t resist wanting to punish him just a little bit for what he’d put me through. “Look, why don’t you go back to sleep?”
“Okay.” All the nights of broken sleep caught up with me, and I lay down and pulled the covers over my shoulders. “Have a good day, Wills.”
“You too, babe.” He turned off the lamp, patted my ass, and walked out whistling that Carpenters’ tune.
* * * *
I rolled over and reached for my lover, as I had every night for the past four weeks, but the place beside me was cold and empty.
I bolted upright, then sagged back on the bed and sighed with relief as the events of the previous night came back to me.
Wills was home. He’d had to go to work early, really early, but he was home. We’d talk this evening, and things would be back on track. I couldn’t go through another four weeks like this.
I sat up, blinked at the light coming through the part in the curtains, and pushed the hair out of my eyes. The clock on Wills’s night table read 11:57. I was still a little tired, but that was the best night’s sleep I’d had in four weeks.
I went into the bathroom and relieved myself, then studied my image in the mirror above the sink as I washed my hands. Aside from a little whisker burn around my mouth, my body was unmarked. Well, I hadn’t given my lover much opportunity to get his hands or mouth on me.
There were dark circles under my eyes, and I looked a little gaunt. Not only hadn’t I not been sleeping well, I hadn’t been eating well either.
Dinner. I seemed to remember saying something about making Cornish game hens with apricot, port, and balsamic sauce, and Wills had promised to come home early. I wasn’t sure how early “early” was, but I’d better hustle. I’d have to go to the butcher to get a couple of nice hens and stop at the liquor store for a bottle of port.
There were a few things I needed to do at home first. Shower, change the sheets on the bed again—kind of like making a fresh start—pick up the clothes that had gotten flung to the four corners last night, feed Miss Su and myself breakfast…No, I grinned ruefully, it would actually be lunch.
I’d better clean off the wall where I’d had him first last night, too. Our hands had been locked together on either side of his head, and he’d sprayed his climax all over the wall.
Yeah, I made him come pretty damn hard that time, I thought smugly.
For the first time in four weeks, I felt more myself. I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. Another Carpenters’ tune came to mind, and I whistled as the water pelted down on me. We did have a lifetime to share, and at dinner I was going to make sure Wills knew I was aware of it.