Part of me wanted him to take me, right there in the bathroom, looking in the mirror as my man, my husband, filled me over and over until we both came. But another side of me, the bigger part, wanted to be carried to our bedroom and made to feel even more beautiful than I felt at that instant. Now, I felt desired, I wanted to feel beautiful too.
I swear it was times like this that Mark transcends the human to superhuman. He read my mind, picking me up in his arms and carrying me through the house in his arms. Like a princess, he carried me through the halls of Mount Zion, having somehow kicked off his pants when he stood up, carrying me all the way to our bedroom.
Laying me on the bed, Mark kissed me, starting with my lips and working his way down my neck to my shoulders. He worked down my left arm, kissing the inside of my elbow and causing my breath to catch as he kept going, all the way down to my fingertips.
"I love you," Mark said, his eyes wide and soft, expressive with more than just words. He sucked my index finger into his mouth, licking around it and letting me pump it in and out of his mouth. I pulled it out and he kissed back down my arm, finding my lips again in a searing, passionate kiss. His hands roamed over my body, stroking over my stomach, hips and breasts as our bodies entwined on the mattress.
I could see it in his eyes, clear to his heart and soul. I was beautiful, that day, the next day, a decade, a thousand years from that moment. To Mark I was always going to be beautiful, regardless of how much my stomach expanded, or if my breasts sagged under the weight of having one, two, or a dozen children with him. I would always be beautiful to him, until the last moment his heart beat, and the last sight in his eyes would be me, his beautiful Sophie.
“Show me how much you love me…”
* * *
"You know, you didn't have to be so damn good at it," I joked lightly later as we lay in bed, still gloriously nude. "I mean, I still don't want to move."
"Then don't," Mark said. He'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants, but that was it, just in case Tabby and Patrick's date came home early. I was of two minds on the matter. I hoped in one hand that it would, but was at the same time afraid. If they came home early because the bubbling desire that had been building between them for the past month was boiling over, I'd be the happiest woman in the world, even if I'd need ear plugs. On the other hand, if Tabby came home early by herself, I'd be crushed.
Mark had told me about his conversation with Patrick in the Park. Once I got past my initial shock, I understood his dilemma. It's never a good time to bring up former associates, and it wasn't like Patrick was still friends with Pressman. Mark hadn't told me about Anita Han, after all, and our relationship was stronger than ever.
Then again, it was still different, and I was worried. "What do you think will happen?" I asked as Mark came in, carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. "Tears of joy, or tears of heartbreak?"
"I think it depends on what fate has in store for them," Mark said, handing me my mug. He'd put cinnamon in it, just like I liked, along with three big puffy marshmallows. Have I mentioned he's perfect?
"What do you mean?" I asked, and took a big drink of my cocoa. He'd even made the temperature perfect, allowing me to take a deep drink without burning my tongue.
Mark grinned and leaned in, giving me a kiss. "You're cute when you have a cocoa mustache," he smirked after we parted, "but as to your question, I guess I'm just saying that it's all in the hands of fate. I think Tabby is a great woman, you know that. Hell, she's the second most perfect woman in the world to me."
I teased him just a bit, knowing his answer. "So if I didn't exist, you and Tabby?"
Mark just rolled his eyes. "You know the answer to that," he said. "Anyway, I think Patrick's come around a lot too. He's impressed me the past month. He's done his work with you with barely a complaint, just keeps coming back for more, and that's after putting in his work at City Hall. He's got a ways to go before I let him out on patrol with me, but he's come a long way."
"That doesn't mean he's a good match for Tabby," I countered, seeing where he was leading, but wanting Mark to say it himself.
"I know. I'm just saying, we both see how they feel about each other. I personally think that their bond, it's strong enough to not even be deflected by this information about Pressman. If I'm wrong, then I'm wrong. I know Patrick won't betray us, and I'm willing to move on from that. If he's not the right person for Tabby, then we'll be there for her until the right person comes along."
"But you think he might be?"
Mark shrugged. "I have hope. Isn't that enough, right now?"
We waited, with Mark spoiling me via sublime massage, a little bit of chocolate, and a thousand little other things that made me feel beautiful and desired. Most of all it was his eyes, and what was contained within them.