I felt myself sink into his body, lost in the familiar, comforting scent of his skin, and hugged him back. “I went running.”
“This morning. You went running this morning,” he said, pulling back just far enough to meet my eyes. “I talked to Max hours ago.”
I placed my palms on his chest, feeling the solid shape of it beneath my fingers, the heat of his skin against the fabric. “Then to the lab,” I said.
“Why didn’t you call? Or answer any of my calls and texts?”
“Oh . . . my phone was in my jacket pocket I guess, probably on silent. I did send you a text saying I’d be gone for a while, though.” My eyes dropped to his neck, and I had to resist the urge to close the distance between us again, bury my face there.
He sighed and I watched the way my hands mirrored the movement of his torso. “Hanna,” he said, tired.
“I’m sorry, I should have been more considerate.”
He nodded.
I ran a palm over his stomach. “I was still upset.”
Will pulled away and took a seat on the arm of the couch, and waited. “From last night?”
“Yeah. I didn’t like that you just assumed I should take a position at a small teaching school.”
“Plum, I didn’t assume anything. Is it what I’d prefer? Maybe? Believe it or not, I happen to like you. I like to spend time with you.” He shook his head, laughing a little. “I mean, today is a pretty good example of what I’m talking about.”
“I’ll admit I shouldn’t have left for the entire day, but I told you, I needed to think.”
“Well, not to be an asshole and point out the obvious,” he said, “but you go to the lab on Sunday all the time. Not just when you need to think. And we were married one week ago.”
Oof. Okay, that one sort of hurt. I took a step away, unzipped my jacket, and placed it over a chair. “Going in to the lab is my job.”
“I know it’s your job, and I love that you take it so seriously and are so fucking good at it. But I’m also trying to express that I want some of your time, too. And I’d like you to take that into consideration when looking at all this. To talk to me about it.”
My head fell back and I looked up at the ceiling. “Are we going to argue about this again?”
I felt his stunned silence before he said, “What we did last night was not argue. We can discuss something—even heatedly—without it being an argument. That said, what’s wrong with arguing? It doesn’t mean we’re in a bad place just because we’re two people with different opinions about how to handle something.”
“If I were a man, would we be having this same discussion? Would a man be asked to take a teaching position over running a large academic lab?”
His eyes went wide with shock. “Yes! You’re not seriously saying this has anything to do with you being a woman, are you?”
“No, I mean . . . of course not. I know you wouldn’t do that. I just want—I don’t want us to argue about something until we know exactly what we’re arguing about, or whatever! Discussing!” I said, getting flustered. “We don’t even know all the options, so how can we possibly have a logical discussion about it? Can we just wait? Please?”
Will sighed, reaching up to push the hair back from his face. He looked at me with soft, patient eyes, and then nodded, holding out his hands to me. “Come here,” he said, and I took the few steps toward him.
This was what I needed: the closeness, the certainty I felt when wrapped in his arms. Everything else was up in the air, but this, this was my constant.
“I missed you,” he said, holding me to him, palm smoothing my hair. “I don’t like waking up without you here, especially with the headache I had this morning.” He pulled back and placed a hand on either side of my face, examining me. “God, that had to have been a tough run.”
“Max is lucky I didn’t hurl on him,” I said, turning my head to place a kiss against his palm, and then up, against the back of his ring. “I never want to drink again. I’m pretty terrible at it.”
“You are pretty terrible at it,” he agreed, watching me. “But you’re okay now?”
“Absolutely okay,” I said. “Very”—kiss—“very”—kiss—“okay.” He sucked in a small breath when I pressed my lips to his wrist, chastely at first, then wetter, sucking, opening my mouth to feel his pulse against my tongue.
His reaction came in the form of another sharp inhale, and my eyes flickered up to his.
“Yeah?” he said, and I dragged my teeth along his skin, pressed down until his brows lifted a little with the pain. “Right here?”
I nodded, stepping back and lifting my shirt up and over my head. His eyes followed the movement and I watched as his features relaxed, every last bit of tension leaving his face.
“Right here,” I said.
We each knew what the other liked. Will liked it to be a little rough sometimes, and I liked to be guided, told where he wanted me and what he wanted me to do.