He traced the top of his teeth with his tongue, and then his lips curled to the side. His jaw tightened. He was angry now. “Okay, I think you’ve had enough to drink.” With one step he was beside me, reaching for my glass. I yanked it away before he could grab it; some of the red wine spilled on my hand and onto the granite counter top. “See what you did!” he said.
Annoyed by his crap I yelled, “Fuck you, why are you still here?”
His eyes widened. “Seriously, Mia? You’re going to talk to me like that? Give me that!” He gripped my hand…we began to wrestle back and forth with the glass. The rest of the wine spilled all over the floor and onto our clothing.
Realizing that I was not giving up, he gave in, letting me have it. Angry with the entire debacle, I slammed the stem on the island causing the glass to shatter. His veins protruded off his forehead. It pissed me off even more that he was angry. He had no right to be angry! I’m the only one that should be mad.
“I said I was fucking sorry! What the FUCK! This entire little scene isn’t necessary, Mia. You’re acting like a child!”
Did he just seriously say that? “I’m acting like a child? I’m acting like a child!” Stepping back to the table, I turned and grabbed the covered food. Lifting the plates, I slammed them to the floor. All of the food and broken glass splattered across tiles. “Is that fucking childish enough for you. Get out!” Breathing heavily, I pointed toward to the door.
Hovering over me, he yelled, “FINE!” His face was red with anger. He stormed away, grabbing his keys on the side table by the entrance and then slammed the door behind him. The loud thumping noise brought me back to reality. I slid down the wall, dropping to the ground, sobbing. Throwing my face into my hands, I couldn’t believe what just happened. What have I done? I was probably acting childish, and there was no excuse, not even liquor. Somehow the liquor gave me the courage to act stupidly.
Even though I was still furious with him, I had to wonder what was so important that made him six hours late. He was so secretive, and it was getting hard for me to deal with.
I probably sat there for fifteen minutes before I heard the front door slowly open. I didn’t have to get up to see who it was. I just knew it was him. Who else would it be?
“Mia?” His voice pierced through the kitchen, and I lifted my hand, so he could see where I was. He walked around the island and spotted me. His face dropped, and very slowly he inched over to me. The front of his sneakers tapped against my toes, and he bent down to my level. He lowered his head to me. “I’m so sorry ... about everything ... being late. You had every right to be angry.”
I wiped the moisture of the tears off my cheeks and sniffed. “I’m still mad at you.”
Letting out a deep breath, his brows pulled in. “I know … I’m really sorry.”
“Why were you late? Why didn’t you text me right away or call? I was worried sick about you.”
“I was on a job. I couldn’t get out of it. I really tried, baby. I really did. I was stuck and I couldn’t answer you ’cause I was too busy.”
Wiping the snot with the back of my hand, I sniffed again. “What job?” Pressing his lips together, he gave me the look that I’d learned way to soon. He couldn’t tell me. “Oh, that’s right. It’s a big secret.” I rolled my eyes and stood. He stood up with me and grabbed my arm to keep me from moving.
“Mia, please, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to go to bed angry … please forgive me. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
I couldn’t believe I was caving in to those eyes. It was more because I was extremely tired and hungry, and the corset was sucking the life out of me. I nodded at him and walked toward the bedroom. He followed.
“I’m so sorry, babe,” he said, shaking his head when he saw the new silk sheets neatly spread over the bed. I didn’t say anything; I was too exhausted. Instead I shifted my body, asking him to unhook the corset. Once it was off, I let out a deep breath; it felt so good to take it off. We crawled into bed, lying on our sides, staring at each other in complete silence.
“Mia?” he whispered.
“Yeah?” I asked as he reached his hand over and gently brushed his fingers against my face. The gesture was so soft and simple, but it felt right. It felt like a relief, and as much as I wanted to still be mad, I didn’t have the strength.
“I’m sorry—”
“Let’s forget about it, okay?” I said, cutting him off. He nodded once in agreement. Bringing his head in, his lips gently kissed mine. It felt different. We usually kissed forcefully, hard, and powerfully. This time he was gentle, stroking his tongue in soft movements and carefully holding my head. His touch always broke me, and I quickly forgot about our fight. I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him in closer.
Breaking from the kiss, he took off his clothes, and I yanked my lace panties off. Grabbing my face with his hands, he continued to kiss me indulgently. I spread my legs, and he made his way between them, instantly filling me with his hardness. I gasped. This was the first time we didn’t use protection, and it felt so good when he moved his hips in a slow rhythm that I couldn’t fight him off.
Gripping my hands with his over my head, he continued at the same pace, not missing a beat. We stared at each other as our bodies molded perfectly against one another. Sex with him was usually rough and hard. But this, this was different: we were making love. His eyes searched my face; he seemed lost and afraid. Usually he would flash me a wicked smile or make a naughty comment. It was like we both couldn’t breathe, mesmerized with one another. I moaned when I felt myself building, ready to let go. With him I’m not just me; I’m his.
Both our bodies trembled at the somehow new sensation; he leaned down, his lips meeting mine. “Mia,” he whispered. He thrust his hips against mine, my insides tightened, and he groaned against my bottom lip as he exploded inside of me. My body instantly reacted to his convulsion, and I whispered his name as my orgasm reached its peak. Still inside of me, his body slammed against mine, and he threw his head into the nape of my neck. “I love you.” It was barely a whisper, but I heard it.
I was afraid of those three little words—afraid because I felt the same. It was too soon. We’d just had a huge fight just a few moments before. Wasn’t it a bad sign to be arguing at such an early stage of a relationship? He was saying he loved me. We’ve only known each other for a couple weeks. Was it really love, or was it lust? Pretending not to hear him, I didn’t say anything. We just stayed in that position, listening to sound of our own breathing, until we drifted into a deep sleep.