“Oh.” I licked my lips, breathing hard. “So, you really think we should do this?”
“You’re overthinking it.”
“Sorry.”
“And stop apologizing.”
My mouth opened to repeat the sentiment but I snapped it shut.
“S’okay. You’ll get the hang of it.”
My brain stuttered and I stared at his mouth. He had the most beautiful mouth, with full lips that pulled up slightly at the edges. Stunning.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
“You said not to think. And honestly, I’m not.”
“Good,” he said, leaning even closer. “That’s good.”
His lips brushed against mine, easing me into it. Soft but firm, with no hesitation. His teeth toyed with my bottom lip. Then he sucked on it. He didn’t kiss like the boys I knew, though I couldn’t exactly define the difference. It was just better and … more. Infinitely more. His mouth pressed against mine and his tongue slipped into my mouth, rubbing against mine. God, he tasted good. My fingers slid into his hair as if they’d always wanted to. He kissed me until I couldn’t remember anything that had come before. None of it mattered.
His hand slid around the nape of my neck, holding me in place. The kiss went on and on. He lit me up from top to toe. I never wanted it to end.
He kissed me ’til my head spun and I hung on for dear life. Then he pulled back, panting, and set his forehead against mine once again.
“Why did you stop?” I asked when I could form a coherent sentence. My hands pulled at him, trying to bring him back to my mouth.
“Shh. Relax.” He took a deep breath. “Did you remember something? Anything about that familiar to you?”
My kiss-addled mind came up blank. Damn it. “No. I don’t think so.”
“That’s a pity.” A ridge appeared between his brows. The dark smudges beneath his beautiful blue eyes seemed to have darkened. I’d disappointed him again. My heart sunk.
“You look tired,” I said.
“Yeah. Might be time to get some shut-eye.” He planted a quick kiss of my forehead. Was it a friend’s kiss or more? I couldn’t tell. Maybe it, too, was just for scientific purposes.
“We tried, huh?” he said.
“Yeah. We did.”
He rose to his feet, collecting his beer bottle. Without him to warm me the breeze blew straight through me, shaking my bones. It was the kiss though that had really shaken me. It had blown my ever-lovin’ mind. To think, I’d had a night of kisses like that and forgotten it. I needed a brain transplant at the earliest convenience.
“Do you mind if I come with you?” I asked.
“Not at all.” He held out a hand to help me to my feet.
Together, we wandered back up to the house, up the stairs into the master bedroom. I tugged off my shoes as David dealt with his own footwear. We lay down on the mattress, not touching. Both of us staring at the ceiling like there might be answers there.
I kept quiet. For all of about a minute. My mind was wide awake and babbling at me. “I think I understand a little better now how we ended up married.”
“Do you?” He turned his head to face me.
“Yes.” I’d never been kissed like that before. “I do.”
“C’mere.” A strong arm encircled my waist, dragging me into the centre of the bed.
“David.” I reached for him with a nervous smile. More than ready for more kisses. More of him.
“Lie on your side,” he said, his hands maneuvering me until he lay behind me. One arm slipped beneath my neck and the other was slung over my waist, pulling me in closer against him. His hips fit against my butt perfectly.
“What are we doing?” I asked, bewildered.
“Spooning. We did it that night for a while. Until you felt sick.”
“We spooned?”
“Yep,” he said. “Stage two in the memory rehab process, spooning. Now go to sleep.”
“I only woke up an hour ago.”
He pressed his face into my hair and even threw a leg over mine for good measure, pinning me down. “Bad luck. I’m tired and I wanna spoon. With you. And the way I figure it, you owe me. So we’re spooning.”
“Got it.”
His breath warmed the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
“Relax. You’re all tense.” His arms tightened around me.
After a moment, I picked up his left hand, running the pads of my fingers over his calluses. Using him for my fidget toy. The tips of his fingers were hard. There was also a ridge down his thumb and another slight one along the bottom of his fingers where they joined the palm of his hand. He obviously spent a lot of time holding guitars. On the back of his fingers the word Free had been tattooed. On his right hand was the word Live. I couldn’t help but wonder if marriage would impinge on that freedom. Japanese-style waves and a serpentine dragon covered his arm, the colors and detail impressive.
“Tell me about your major,” he said. “You’re doin’ architecture, right?”
“Yes,” I said, a little surprised he knew. I’d obviously told him in Vegas. “My dad’s one.”
He meshed his fingers with mine, putting the kibosh on my fidgeting.
“Did you always want to play guitar?” I asked, trying not to get too distracted by the way he was wrapped around me.
“Yeah. Music’s the only thing that ever really made sense to me. Can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Huh.” It must be nice, having something to be so passionate about. I liked the idea of being an architect. Many of my childhood games had involved building blocks or drawing. But I didn’t feel driven to do it, exactly. “I’m pretty much tone deaf.”
“That explains a lot.” He chuckled.
“Be nice. I was never particularly good at sports either. I like drawing and reading and watching movies. And I like to travel, not that I’ve done much of it.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm.”
He shifted behind me, getting comfortable. “When I travel it’s always about the shows. Doesn’t leave much time for looking around.”
“That’s a pity.”