Surrendering Series Box Set - Page 383

“Yes, fine,” I said. “Just lost my train of thought.” I gave him a smile over my shoulder and we both sat down.

“I think I’m going to have to have you over for dinner more often, Lucah,” Dad said after taking a bite of salmon. “This is excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.” Lucah was perfectly happy to call my mother by her first name, but he would always use that term of respect for Dad. I liked that. I also liked that Lucah was still a little scared of Dad.

Mom asked Dad all about his day and what he’d eaten and had he checked out anything she’d had delivered to the basement?

“Oh, Eva, don’t worry. I’ll get on that treadmill one of these days. I don’t think I’ll be running any marathons soon, though.”

Mom daintily wiped her mouth with her napkin. “That’s fine, Walter. I don’t want you to move too fast. Then I won’t be able to keep up with you.” Dad pushed his plate aside.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think you could.” They were being overly affectionate tonight and I had the feeling it had to do with the heart attack. They’d always been sweet together, but this was something deeper.

It seemed easier to stay over instead of driving back into the city and then back the next morning.

“Does this mean I get to sleep in your bed?” Lucah said in my ear as we said goodnight to my parents and climbed the stairs.

“You sleep in my bed every night,” I said. When he’d moved in with me I’d been so surprised that he didn’t want to bring hardly anything from his old apartment with him. He said he liked my things better. We’d also bought a few things here and there together to make the place more ours.

“Yes, but this is different.” I didn’t know how. Lucah had seen my childhood bedroom plenty of times. It wasn’t quite the same as it was when I last lived here. My mom had taken down the band posters and I’d made sure I’d taken anything that I didn’t want her to find, with me when I moved out. Some of my clothes were still here, along with some pictures and yearbooks and other little things. The detritus we accumulate as we age that we never quite know what to do with.

“So this is your room,” Lucah said when I closed the door. He was being very silly about it.

“You’ve been here before,” I said and sat down on my bed. Thankfully, it was a queen, so I didn’t have to worry about squishing in a twin with Lucah. That would have been seriously uncomfortable for both of us.

“I know, but not like this,” he said, stepping toward me and sticking out his tongue. I knew he had the silver bar in. My parents knew about it (it was impossible not to see when he talked), but they had never commented. I could just imagine what my mother said to my father about it when they were alone. At least they didn’t know about his nipple piercing. That was a conversation I’d rather give up my entire shoe collection to avoid having.

“What are you thinking about, naughty boy?” He stopped right in front of me and leaned down, putting his hands on my knees.

“How do you know my thoughts are naughty? Are you reading my mind now?” I snorted.

“It doesn’t take a genius to read your mind, Fire Crotch.” I’d stolen the nickname from Sloane, but it made me laugh every time.

“You’re the one who seems quite concerned about my crotch.” Standing, he pushed said crotch in my direction. I looked up at him.

“Really? That’s your line to try and get me into bed? You’re really losing your touch, Mr. Blythe.”

“Ouch,” he said, putting his hand on his heart. “I thought you liked my lines.” I flopped onto my back on the bed.

“Whatever. You’re just trying to get in my pants.” I was tired again. I put my arm over my eyes.

“You’re damn right that I’m trying to get into your pants. I’m always trying to get into your pants. One of my main life goals is to get into your pants. I would live in your pants if I could. I would build a house there. Maybe with a pool. Definitely a two car garage.” What the hell was he talking about? Propping my head up, I found him grinning down at me like a goof.

“I can’t even figure out what the hell you’re talking about anymore.” But I was laughing, so I guess he had accomplished at least that.

“Your pants. Keep up, Rory,” he said as he snapped his fingers.

“I can’t. My brain is still tired. Why don’t you do whatever you want to do and I’ll just lay here.” No sooner had I said that then my legs were yanked to the end of the bed.

“What the hell?” I sat up in surprise.

“There is no way that I am just going to fuck you and let you lie there. No way in hell. If you don’t want to have sex, that’s fine, but don’t give me pity sex. We’re about sixty years too young for pity sex. Hell, I never want to have pity sex with you. We aren’t pity sex people.” I sighed.

“You’re right, you’re right. I just figured if you wanted to get off, then you could go ahead, but you’re right. That’s not a good idea. We can’t let ourselves become a boring married couple who just do missionary on anniversaries.” Lucah made a disgusted face.

“Sunshine, I don’t think we’ll ever get there. I want you too much and that’s never going to change. Ever.” I wasn’t sure about that. My body was young and pretty non-saggy, but that would change. When I had babies, it was going to change. When I hit forty, it was going to change. Unless they perfected a way to permanently preserve me at my current age, I wasn’t always going to look like this.

“Hold up. What the hell are you thinking about? Because I don’t like the look of it,” he said, taking my shoes off. I’d worn Chucks and jeans and a Henley. Mom had raised an eyebrow at it, but I wanted to be comfortable this weekend. If the worst thing that happened was my mother disapproving of my clothes, then I was doing okay.

Tags: Chelsea M. Cameron Erotic
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