‘Yes, normal. Like what normal married people do.’
‘Normal, like the wife cooks and the husband eats? That’s a bit chauvinistic.’ I laugh, but he doesn’t. He’s still concentrating on his careful cutting and eating. He wants normalcy? Then he should try being a bit normal himself. But do I want him to be normal? No, I don’t. He wouldn’t be Jesse if he was normal. We wouldn’t be us if he was normal. I take another bite of lamb to busy my mouth, instead of calling him a caveman. We’ll never be normal, not completely, and I hope we’re not.
He shrugs, rests his cutlery on the side of his plate and sits back in his chair, slowly raising his eyes to mine as he chews purposely slow. What’s going on in that head of his? The greenness of his gaze has me engrossed, making me slow my own chews down to mimic his. ‘Isn’t this normal?’ he asks, his voice low and throaty.
‘You mean having dinner together?’
‘Yes,’
I shrug a little. ‘Yes, this is normal.’
He nods mildly. ‘What about if I spread you on this table during dinner and f**k you? Would that be normal?’
My eyes widen a little in surprise. I don’t know why because that would be perfectly normal for us. ‘Our normal is you taking what you want, when you want it. You can chuck in a meal cooked by your wife, if you like.’
‘Good,’ He collects his knife and fork. ‘I like our normal.’
I frown at him. What was the point of all that? ‘Is something worrying you?’ I ask.
‘No,’ He answers far too quickly.
‘Yes, there is.’ I fire back, and I think I know what it is. ‘Are you suddenly considering the possibility of no wherever and whenever with two babies around?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Look at me.’ I demand, and he does, but he’s looking at me in shock. I don’t give him a chance to scoff at my order, or ask me who the hell I think I’m talking to. ‘You are, aren’t you?’
His shock turns to a glower. ‘Wherever, whenever.’
‘Not with two babies around.’ I could laugh at him. He has. He’s suddenly well aware that his possession over my body is going to be curbed. I return to my dinner, delighting in this revelation. I can’t believe he hasn’t thought about this already. ‘They’ll need a lot of my attention.’
He points his fork at me. Not his knife, but his fork. ‘Yes, you’re primary role will be the care of our children, but a close second, and I mean a very close second, will be for my indulgence. Wherever, whenever, Ava. I might need to control my craving for you to a certain extent, but don’t think that I’m going to sacrifice devoting my life to consuming you. Constant contact. Wherever, whenever. That’s not going to change, just because we have babies.’ He stabs at a piece of lamb and yanks it off the fork with his mouth.
If wanting me to cook for him was chauvinistic, then I have no idea what that little speech would represent. ‘Even if I’m knackered from night feeds?’ I’m poking.
‘Too tired for me to take you?’ he asks, shocked.
‘Yes,’
‘We’ll get a nanny,’ His lamb takes another vicious stabbing, and I mentally laugh my socks off.
‘But I’ve got you.’ I remind him.
He sighs and drops his knife and fork to his plate. ‘You do,’ His fingertips go to his temples and start rubbing calming circles. ‘You do have me, and you always will.’ He reaches over and takes my hand. ‘Promise me you’ll never say I’m too tired, or I’m not in the mood.’
‘You’re the one who tells me I’m too tired!’ I practically screech. ‘It’s okay for you to knock me back.’
‘That’s because I have the power.’ he says frankly. ‘Promise me.’ he presses.
‘You want me to promise you that I’m here for you to take as and when you please?’
He looks away, only very briefly, before returning thoughtful eyes to me. ‘Yes,’ he says simply.
‘What if I don’t?’ I’m being insolent for the sake of it. I’ll never be too tired for this man, but his sudden epiphany is really quite amusing. He should have thought about all of this before he nicked my pills.
He laughs, and then the arrogant swine only leans back and pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing himself in all of his clean cut perfection. He looks down at his chest, as if refreshing his own memory of just how incredibly flawless he is. My eyes are on that chest, too. I might even be salivating all over my lamb, but I’m defiantly resisting his tactics. I drink in his godliness, my eyes skipping over every hard piece of him, my mind making a mental note to refresh my mark. It’s fading. ‘You’ll never resist this.’ He gestures to his torso.