AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I think that’s the endorphins talking.”
He lifts off me enough to look in my eyes. “It’s not. I love you.”
“More than Erika?”
He frowns, the mood stilling. “Erika was different. She was the first woman I loved, and I played with her heart.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Foster pulls out of me and moves to my side. “I’m not married to Erika. I’m married to you.”
“But you wanted to marry her.”
“Paige, are you trying to start an argument?” he growls.
I turn on my side away from him, confused. I’m not trying to start an argument; I was curious. Foster has only said he loved Erika, and it turned bad because of what he did, but he’s never elaborated on the relationship.
“Sweetheart?” he calls.
“Forget it.”
He sighs. “Fine. Are you hungry?”
“I’m thirsty.”
“What would you like?”
“Anything with ice.”
Foster plants a kiss on my shoulder before the bed shifts as he gets up. He pads out of the room naked. Lost in my thoughts, I pull the sheet over me and snuggle into the mattress, feeling a bit sad by Foster’s quick departure. A cold sensation wakes me as Foster’s fingers stroke my face, causing me to shiver.
“Your hands are cold,” I complain.
“Ice,” he says as he places a tumbler with ice and what looks like ginger ale on the nightstand.
Sitting up, I greedily guzzle down some of the drink. The bubbles fizzing down my parched throat feels so good.
“Thank you,” I say, sated.
“You’re welcome,” Foster responds as he sits on the bed next to me, stroking my hair and tucking it behind my ear. “How do you feel?”
I put the glass down on the nightstand. “You mean from the sex?”
“Yes. I want to know if you’re comfortable.” His gaze is intense as he watches me.
“I’m okay. Sex with you is great.”
“Would you be open to having more sex?.”
My eyes widen as my core clenches. “Now?”
Foster chuckles, answering, “Not now, but later.” He then kisses my cheek and leans away to grab his boxers, which tangled in his slack. Once he slips them, he stands.
“We’re done?” I ask uncertainly.
“You said no more sex.”
“But I like to cuddle. If that’s not your thing, let me know.”
“You’re my thing. If you want to be cuddled, say so.”
“I want to be cuddled.”
Foster pushed his boxers off, leaving them where they fall, and he climbs back into bed, pulling my body against his. I am content, but something is bothering me that I can’t put my finger on at the moment.
