“Do I like it? Are you kidding? It’s gorgeous. It’s so beautiful in here.” She looks around, her fingers caress the armchairs and she leans over and smells the flowers I placed around the two rooms. When she turns back to me, she shakes her head in disbelief. “This is incredible, Tucker.”
I start to walk toward her when her eyes look behind me and they start to fill with tears. I follow her line of sight and see that she spotted the pictures I framed of us for the mantle. She walks over to them and I follow closely behind, wrapping my arms around her waist.
She caresses the frames gently, taking her time looking at them.
“I thought it would be nice to have some pictures of us on display.”
She shakes her head and says, “I can’t believe you did all of this.”
“I did it for you,” I whisper. “I want you to be comfortable here. I want a comfortable place for you to study, especially with finals lurking. I want a place where we can snuggle and watch movies together. I want us to have a proper table to eat dinner at, not something that can fold up and fit between a slot between the fridge and the wall.”
“Tucker, from the moment I walked in this house, I’ve been comfortable. I love living here.”
“You do?”
She nods. “I do. I didn’t want you to furnish the house for me. I wanted you to be the one who felt comfortable in this house, to make it your own. Your home.”
I grip her waist and say, “I made it ours. Our home.” And fuck if that isn’t the truth. It’s not a cold, lonely house. It’s a warm, welcoming home. Because of her. I lean down and press a kiss against her lips, loving how her hand instinctively grips the back of my neck to deepen the connection. When I pull away, I drag my thumb over her bottom lip. “I just always want you to be happy, Emma. Always.”
“I am happy, Tucker.”
“Good.” I kiss her forehead and say, “Promise me if you’re ever unhappy, you’ll tell me. No hiding things like that convo with Logan, all right? I want you to come to me, okay?”
“Promise.”
***
“Seriously, hands down, Tom Hanks is the best actor of all time.” Emma lifts off my chest and fidgets with her hair. “He’s so versatile.”
I glance at the TV and then at Emma again. “You’re making that statement after watching The Burbs?”
“I am.” She holds her chin high.
“You know he’s had way better performances, right?”
“I just felt like he was so earthy in this film.”
“Earthy?” I chuckle. “Where the hell do you get earthy from?”
She shrugs. “Just seemed like the proper term.”
“It’s not.”
“You don’t know.”
“I do.” I snag her waist and plop her on my lap. The candles in the room are slowly starting to burn out, and the family sized bag of peanut M&M’s we decided to share is almost gone. I couldn’t have picked a better way to spend my night with Emma. In my arms, in the new living room, watching a movie, and breathing in her fresh, flowery scent.
Goddamn, I like her so much. For so long, I never thought I’d have this. Her.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Em.”
She looks up at me, probably sees the serious intent in my unexpected comment, and smiles. “Me too, Tucker.”
Because I can’t not touch her, I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand. They’re builder’s hands. Rough. Overused. Often cracked from the cold. Yet she never flinches when I touch her silky soft skin. I’m not good with words, so I don’t really know how to communicate how much it means to me that she’s here. That she seems just as glad to be home as I am to welcome her. All I can do is touch her, and hope she knows. Hope she knows I’d feel empty and lifeless without her.
“What do you have planned for the rest of the evening?” she asks, shifting on my lap with a smile. And there it is. The smile that is both sweet and wicked. By the gleam in her eyes, she can feel my hard-on. It’s that easy with her. She just has to touch me and I get hard.
“I was hoping you had something planned for me.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. I think it’s time we break in this couch.”
“I was hoping you were going to say that.” She stands from my lap and pulls her pajama shirt over hear head revealing a purple lace bra that barely covers her luscious tits, followed up by taking her pants down, showing off a matching thong that’s so thin I’m not sure it should even be considered underwear. Her long brown hair sways over her shoulders as she pushes it to the side to show off her little outfit.
“You had that under your pajamas the whole time and never said anything?” I ask, so fucking turned on.
“I did.”
“And here I had to watch the movie the entire time with my shirt off. How is that fair?”
She starts to play with the straps of her thong as she answers, “It’s not my fault you’re a terrible negotiator.”
“I didn’t even know we were negotiating.”
“And whose problem is that?” She reaches down to my jeans, unbuckles them, and pulls my pants off with a little assistance from me, leaving me in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.
She pouts for a second and says, “I thought you would be wearing those grandpa panties I like so much.”
She straddles my lap and presses her hands against my chest while her hips start to slowly move over my erection. Fuck yes, that feels good.
“They’re not grandpa panties. They’re just regular briefs.”
“Yes, they are. They’re gramp-ties.”
“Is this your idea of foreplay?”
She rubs her thong-clad ass over my lap. “I don’t know, you tell me. Seems like it’s working.”
“Only because you look so fucking hot.”
“You like this outfit?” She continues to maneuver on my lap, my cock hard as a fucking rock, and I’m certainly enjoying the view.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” I nod at her chest. “Take your bra off, babe.”
A wicked smile appears across her face. “Make me.”
“You really want to play that game? You know I’m significantly bigger than you, right?”
“Size means nothing.”
I thrust up into her, causing a little moan to pop out of her mouth. “It should matter.”
Her hands fall to my chest as she braces herself against me. “Maybe it does a little.”
I reach behind her and pop off her bra, watching it fall down her shoulders and exposing her gorgeous breasts. Wasting no time, I bring her chest forward and lower my head so I can suck one of her nipples into my mouth.
“God, yes,” she moans.
God, yes is fucking right. Everything about her is so damn right. Every. Fucking. Time.
***
Slap.
“Ouch, that hurt.” I shake my hand and then hold it to my chest.
Emma points her wooden spoon at me and says, “Stop eating all the croutons out of the salad or else there’ll be none left for our guests.”
There is a knock at the side door. I go to answer it as I say, “You can ask nicely; you don’t have to go whacking me.”
She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “I thought you liked a good whacking.”