“Yeah, there’s a place that does wood-fired pizzas not far from here and they deliver.”
“Go ahead and order while I hop in the shower.” He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and passes me his card. “On me.” He starts to walk away, but I call his name and he turns back. I crook my finger, and he grins as he bends down in front of me. “Yes?” He croons.
Grabbing the lapel of his shirt, I pull him in for a kiss.
The warmth of his left-hand presses against my cheek, a stark contrast to the cold feel of the metal ring around his finger.
“What was that for?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Because I wanted to,” I reply simply.
He grins. “Order dessert too.”
“Was the kiss that good?” I jest as he crosses the threshold into the bathroom and tears off his shirt.
“Always.”
I place the order for the pizza and change into my pajamas to scroll through the rental movie options. Fisher and I used to lovegoing to the movie theater whenever we could and while this isn’t quite the same, it’s close enough.
I queue up a recent rom-com-slash-action movie.
I rearrange the pillows so we can lay on our stomachs to watch and dim the lights—I’m not necessarily trying to set the mood or anything, but … fuck, maybe I am. We haven’t had sex since Vegas, or fooled around since Noah and Sabrina’s wedding, and the close proximity of sleeping next to him every night and not being able to touch him like that even if we wake up nearly every morning wrapped around each other is wearing on me.
The bathroom door opens with a billow of steam, and I expect to find Fisher in his usual sleep pants and shirt or no shirt combo but instead he’s wearing one of the hotel towels tied loosely around his waist. Water sluices down his chest, sliding through the lines of abdominal muscles. My throat goes dry as my eye track the water. But I can tell you what isn’t dry—my aching core that clenches around nothing.
“Ebba,” he says, voice heated and deep. “If you keep staring at me like that…”
He trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. My eyes widen at the very obvious hardening of his cock. My pulse picks up speed.
With a groan, he swipes an article of clothing from his bag he refuses to let me unpack. He washes the clothes and puts them right back in there.
He quickly shuts himself back in the bathroom and I’m left feeling achy and hollow.
He emerges a few minutes later, clad in a pair of loose gray sleep pants that are so thin they’re doing nothing to hide the shape of his dick, and pulling on a hoodie.
I quickly jerk my gaze away before his head emerges from the confines of the hoodie.
My phone buzzes and I’m thankful for the distraction. “Pizza’s here.”
“I’ll go down and get it,” he says, already sliding his feet into a pair of shoes. “Be right back.”
While he’s gone, I grab us each a beer from the fridge. I’m not a huge fan of beer, but I do like it with pizza.
By the time he returns, I’ve settled back on the bed on my stomach with my legs crossed in the air.
“This smells so fucking good.” He sets the pizza on the bed beside me. “I didn’t realize I was starving.”
I flip the lid open and grab a slice. “Is this movie okay?”
He picks up his own slice. “Looks good to me.”
I press play and chew on my pizza. The bed jostles as Fisher settles beside me. “I hope the beer is okay, but you can grab something else if you want it.”
“Nah, this is fine.” He pops the top and takes a swig. My eyes zero in on the smooth column of his throat and the way it flexes when he swallows. He lowers the bottle and finds me staring. “You gotta stop staring at me like that.”
I shrug unapologetically. “Can a girl not admire her hot husband?”
A low rumble emanates from his chest and his eyes darken. “Don’t tease me, Ebba.”