I pulled away to gaze up at him. “And the new and illicit thing is never going to tempt you the least little bit?”
Something about that apparently bothered him, because his forehead creased. “I’m not saying I’m never going to look. That would be stupid and unrealistic. And I’m not going to blow sunshine, because then you won’t believe me on the stuff I’m serious about.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m always going to weigh what I’d lose against the worth of any heat-of-the-moment encounter. And every single time, that heat of the moment will never live up to what I have with you. Never.”
How could he be so romantic and yet so calmly rational at the same time? I didn’t know, but my smile had now grown along with my confidence. And my trust in him.
It appeared that he was going to say something, but thought the better of it. So I leaned forward and put my hand on his arm, urging him to say what was on his mind.
“And…maybe you should recognize that part of this fear is based on your personal experiences, too. And the things the Real Housewives said tonight played into fears that are already there.”
He was talking about my father—the biological sperm donor. The original cheater in my life. Except my mom had been the poor, unsuspecting young woman that he had cheated on his family with. And then he’d deserted us and gone back to them.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I acknowledge that some of the stuff they were saying triggered my own deepest, darkest fears.”
He frowned. “Deep down, you still think I’m going to leave?”
I bit my lip and thought for a moment. “Not logically, no.”
He smiled and smoothed a strong thumb over my damp cheek. “I’ve watched you puke and pee yourself—sometimes at the same time. If that didn’t scare me away, what would?”
I shrugged, looking away. “Gray hairs? Wrinkles? Saggy boobs?”
“You’ll be more beautiful.” He shook his head, sighing. “Most men that stray…they’re doing it because of their own fragile self-image. They’re flattered by the attention that feeds their ego. They’re cheating to fulfill a bottomless pit of need.”
“They’re not cheating because they had a fight with their wife or she’s too tired to get dressed up and be glamorous or hang all over him?”
He shrugged. “Some, probably, are unhappy at home. There might be times when it’s hard for us. But we’ve proven we can get through the hard times, haven’t we? You should believe in us more.”
I straightened, suddenly worried that he thought I didn’t believe in us. “I’m sorry. I do. I honestly do. This is completely born of my own insecurity.”
He scowled. “Then stop it, because like men, women have those needs, too—to have their self-image reinforced. Maybe I should be worried you’ll cheat on me.”
I glanced up at him to note the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Well there is my sixty-five year old research mentor…”
The cocky smile vanished from his face, and I started laughing. His mouth dropped, and I fell back on the bed. As he had days of stubble growth on his jaw, I suspected he was going to close in for another whisker burn, but I held out my arm, barring his access as he rolled onto me.
“Wait—I do have another thing I need to ask you.”
“Before I execute your punishment?”
I bit my lip and nodded, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes.
His gaze narrowed as he scanned my face, from eyes to lips, likely suspecting that I was working him over—which I was. “I don’t trust that look.”
“What look? I do have something else I need to ask you.”
He kissed my neck instead of delivering the threatened whisker burn. I smiled, warmed by the familiar zing his lips evoked anywhere on my body. He was getting frisky now that he was feeling better. Unfortunately, despite the length of time since we’d last had sex, I’d have to shut this down. But I enjoyed it for the moment. He kissed a trail up the column of my throat.
“Well, the Real Housewives were talking about prenups…”
He froze. There was a distinct hesitation before he resumed kissing me without comment. “Are you absolutely positive my spleen is still too swollen? Because I can assure you other parts are swelling right now.” He nibbled on my ear, and lust flared as my eyes rolled back into my head. Damn, this moratorium on our sex life had been murder.
Strange that he hadn’t answered my question…but that was my last thought on the subject as he slowly turned me into goo with his hot mouth.
“We can’t. Not until you see the doctor on Monday and she says it’s okay.”
“Goddamn it.” He rolled off me. “I can’t even cheat on you with my hand.”
I busted up, laughing.
“It’s not funny,” he whined.
“It’s effing hilarious. You’re not the only one feeling horny.”
“I’d offer to alleviate your suffering for you, but you’re a cruel woman who has mocked my misfortunes. If I suffer, then you’ve got to suffer along with me.”
I snickered and rolled on my side to face him, holding up my palm. “I have a hand, too. And I can cheat on you with it.”
“Yeah. Between that and my dirty underwear—”
“T-shirt! It was your t-shirt. Jesus.”
We went back and forth like that for a few more minutes before he sobered and looked at me for a long moment. “You feeling better?”
“Yeah. I am.” I sighed. “I’m glad we had this talk despite how distraught I was when we started.”
“And here I was feeling sentimental about us when you got home. It all went out the window when I you started crying.”
I kissed his cheek. “What got you sentimental?”
He pointed to his laptop, sitting at an awkward angle on his nightstand. “The quest. It’s all about us. Are you sure no one questioned you to get the details about our relationship?”
I blinked, stunned. “No. Like…how is it about us? Show me.”
He opened up the laptop and logged into the game, explaining where he’d gone so far, running errands to help Lord Sisyphus find and propose to his bride.
“First, it said go to where he first met her, and I was stumped for a while. Then I thought about us and how we first met at that hotel conference room. And I took a chance and went to the best inn in town. Upstairs on a long table, there was a glowing vase. I clicked on it to put the flowers in the vase.”