activity.
“What’s wrong?”
Simon’s at the door, rugged and rumpled after a morning cleaning and packing.
I give him an appreciative smile. “It’s nothing.”
“That groan wasn’t nothing.”
I don’t want to look at everything on my calendar I won’t be getting to this week. Nudging past him to leave the office, I head to the bedroom to gather a pile of laundry.
He follows. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”
I look over his shoulder, but I don’t see or hear the girls. “Where are the kids?”
His lopsided smile is adorable. “Downstairs, getting a TV fix after nearly three days without any.”
As long as they’re not around to hear, I can whine just a little. It’s not like my issues are the end of the world. “I’m trying not to stress. It’s a busy week and I need to run to the store and think of some lunches to pack so we can eat between their activities. Which is fine, but I haven’t been keeping up on my training runs and I wanted to do a little more with my business before I launch.”
My business. Compared to what he’s built, my endeavor looks like a toddler game—for three and under. I’ll get paid to do minor online tasks others don’t want to. I’m not controlling millions of dollars, holding people’s life savings in my hands, not to mention I won’t have any employees.
He lifts a shoulder. “I’ll go to the store. You go for a run.”
“I should find their swimming things to wash first. Lessons are starting. And it’s volleyball week. I think we have at least one set of knee pads.”
“Go for a run. I’ll do that.”
“Don’t you need to catch up?”
A cloud ripples over his features, then is gone. His neglected inbox and voicemails are killing him. “I’ll do it after. I just need your help making a quick list.”
He’s been gone longer from work than I can remember. While we were away, he diligently ignored his phone, to the point where he left it in the vehicle because it was buzzing with too many incoming messages and emails.
But he’s willing to put it off a little longer because I’m stressed about first world problems.
I tilt my head. “Did I ever tell you how sexy it is when you get groceries?”
Heat seeps into his gaze and he shuts the bedroom door behind him. The click of the lock echoes between us. “Did I tell you how fucking painful it was not to mess around at the cabin?”
He reaches behind his head and yanks his shirt off. I do the same. He walks out of his shorts and underwear as he crosses to me, his erection pointing the way. I slip my clothing past my hips and wiggle out of them while unhooking my bra.
We don’t mess around with foreplay. The kids could knock on the door any minute.
I put my hands on his shoulders and push him back on the bed.
His chuckle rumbles through my thighs as I crawl on top of him. He grips my hips to place me over him. All I have to do is rock down on his length.
His fingers tighten on my skin. “Anytime you’re stressed, I offer up my services.”
I wrap my fist around his hot length to hold him steady and lower myself, releasing him when his broad tip breaches my body.
I don’t bother to hold back my moan. “Definitely a good stress reliever.” I don’t care about anything right now. Not sports sampler camp. Not swimming lessons. And not running. All I’m focused on is getting off with my husband.
Our talk on the porch swing filters through my mind, but I push it away. It’s tabled for now.
I press the rest of the way down and don’t linger. Anchoring my knees on either side of him, I rock back up, then down.
“Natalie,” he breathes as he rolls his torso up, stroking his hands behind me to bring us closer together. “Anytime you need help, come to me.”
I set a pace riding him and wrap my arms around his head, hugging his head to my chest. He makes me feel important, makes me feel seen.
“Simon.” It comes out as a whine. Pressure’s building. I need him. I need this. Just me and him against the world. That’s what I’ve been missing. As an only kid that had a hard time making close friends, he’s been my partner in so many ways. And when his work demanded more and more of him, I was left as that girl who had no