Page 75 of Finding Hayes
He crossed his arms over his chest. “And you just date them once? No repeat dates?”
I rolled my eyes, unsure of why we were talking about this, but Hayes and I had always talked about everything. “Usually once.I don’t let them pick me up. We normally meet at a restaurant for dinner or happy hour. Occasionally, I get asked to go to a football or a hockey game. But I always drive my own car.”
“The piece-of-shit clunker you call a car?” he grumped.
“Don’t insult Big Red. You sound jealous of a car now, too, and it’s unbecoming.” I smiled, and his mouth twitched. “That’s usually it. I think I did a second date with two guys over the last year, and the rest have all been one and done.”
“I thought you said you haven’t had sex in a while?” he pressed, because he was clearly a nosy bastard.
“I haven’t. My last serious relationship was two years ago. Haven’t been with anyone since.”
He gaped at me. “What about your five million dates? You didn’t sleep with one of them?”
“No. I’m not having sex with someone that I don’t think I’d actually date. So the one and dones get a kiss, if they’re lucky.” I shrugged.
“Poor bastards.” He chuckled, but for whatever reason, he looked thrilled by the news. Like he enjoyed the idea of me torturing these men. “What about the two dudes who got second dates?”
“They got a good make-out sesh. A little under-the-sweater action. That’s it.”
“Yet you let me give you two orgasms and go down on you?” He quirked a brow.
“You’re my husband.” I sighed. “Listen, don’t question the rules. I make them up as I go. But since we’re being so open about things, how often do you date?”
“I don’t. I go to a bar and leave with a woman. There’s no make-out sesh or whatever the fuck you called it. If I go to her home, we usually fuck. Aside from Trish Windsor, who crossed a line, so I got the fuck out of there.”
“What did she do?”
“She tried to cuff me to her bed.”
“And you didn’t like that?” I asked, completely mesmerized by the conversation.
“I don’t get cuffed. I’d be happy to tie up a woman if that was her thing, but I’m not trusting some woman I barely know to lock me to her bed. What if she never uncuffs me? Makes me her sex prisoner? Not fucking happening.”
My head fell back in laughter. “I can’t believe she wanted to cuff you to her bed. And why do you always go to the woman’s house? You don’t bring ladies here?”
“No. Because if I’m already at home, I can’t leave if I need the night to end.”
“Yet you’ve agreed to me sleeping in your bed for the next few months.”
“You’re my wife.” He quirked a brow. “And two years is a long time to go without sex, Shortcake. If you need me to remedy that for you, just say the word.”
“I mean, we should consummate this marriage eventually, right?” I crawled across the mattress and found my clothing, pulling my jammies back on. This had been an eventful evening, and I should probably pump the brakes.
He climbed back onto the bed and patted his hand against the mattress beside him. “How about this? We take it one day at a time. If you want me to bury my face between your thighs every fucking morning and every fucking night and do nothing more, I’d be a very content husband with that arrangement. We don’t ever have to have sex if it complicates things for you.”
“Damn. I don’t want to be cocky, but I feel like I must have one magical vagina covered in pixie dust if you’re willing to…go downtownevery single day until I divorce you and get back to the single life.”
“No doubt about it. You’ve got an award-winning pussy, Shortcake.”
We were both laughing hysterically now, and I rolled onto my side to face him. Just the way we’d started before all the orgasms.
It was quiet now, and the room was dark.
“I missed you, Hayes,” I said the words so softly I wasn’t sure he’d even heard me.
But then he tugged me closer, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed the top of my head.
He’d definitely heard me.
