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“I think we both needed this,” he said. It was warm in his arms. Like standing in front of an oven on a cold winter day. Safe enough, I could let go of all the tension I carried from job to job. It made it so much nicer that it wasn’t just me.
“Do you always wear that perfume?” He asked.
“No. It depends on the season. This one has soil and petrichor and oak moss. You like it? I’ve never met anyone who actually likes it besides me.”
“I hate it.”
I pulled back from him and held him at arm’s length. We stared at each other for several seconds before he cracked a smile and we both laughed.
“It is truly… yeah, it stinks like an old witch’s cottage.”
“Gus, look around.”
“No, not a good witch, like you. I’m talking one who eats children and leaves their bones outside to rot.”
“Shut up. I smell like the earth after a rainstorm, not rotten bones.” I smacked his arm. “It was a gift from Bethany. Actually, all my fragrances are. It’s kind of her thing.”
He nodded. “She bought me a very expensive-looking bottle of something for Christmas last year.”
“Is that what you’re wearing now?”
“Yeah.” He blushed. Or at least I imagined he blushed under his thick beard.
“I like it. It smells like actually being out in the woods, rather than in-your-face cologne.”
“To me, it smells like church.”
I closed my arms around his waist again as I looked up. “Dream vacation?”
He let out an audible breath, “Some island in the middle of the Pacific. In one of those huts built right over the lagoon. My tiny wife in a tiny bikini.” He looked down. “I’m allowed to say that now, right? We are engaged.”
I started to break the hug, but he held tighter. Our eyes met. Instead of shrinking into myself, like I usually did whenever an attractive man looked at me, he made me brave. Or I decided to be brave. I wasn’t sure which was which. It was entirely possible I’d never had anyone encourage me to be myself in a romantic relationship. That’s why I didn’t have them. Before now, they were a waste of time, a way to take my eyes off my career goals.
“As long as my bikini is black.”
He considered for a moment. “You look good in black. Shows off that blindingly white skin of yours. I bet you glow under moonlight.”
“You’ll find out tonight.”
“What’s tonight?” His eyes darkened.
“I’m building us a fire on the patio out back. There’s a full moon.”
He nodded slowly, a smile creeping across his face. “Sex?”
“What?” I really did break the hug this time. He let me, dropping his arms too, turning to stir the pasta. He didn’t elaborate. He just fished the stray piece of shrimp off the stove and popped it into his mouth, chewing at me questioningly with raised eyebrows. “After the wedding,” he said around his mouthful of shrimp. “Are we?”
“Oh! After...” God, I hoped my relief wasn’t that obvious. I hadn’t shaved, hadn’t even showered since yesterday morning, since it would’ve been stupid to shower before a bonfire. Even if I had, “Uh, well, I assumed we’d have to consummate the marriage.”
He shook his head. “Greeks don’t do that. Actually, I don’t know if that’s a legal requirement anywhere anymore. I just mean, I don’t expect you to feel comfortable, or want to right away. But eventually...” He smiled, but not at me, at the pot of linguine. “Yeah. We’ll get there.”
“It sounds as though you’re already there.”
“Decca.” He turned to me, giving me a look I couldn’t identify. He took a step forward, I took a step back. It was predatory in the best way. He took another step, and I did the same until my lower back hit the countertop. He moved in closer, pressing his body against mine. He didn’t move to do anything; didn’t touch me or kiss me. He just looked down at me, his arms hanging at his sides, his legs pressed against mine. I didn’t understand what he wanted from me. He was pressing more and more and... oh.Oh.That was what he was... yeah, I felt it. The hardness between his legs, pressing into my belly. I couldn’t help but look down. He was definitely already there.
He nodded slightly, and I knew he was telling me this was okay.
“Every time I hug you.”
