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“Not one bit,” I admitted, shaking my head.
“Forget the t-shirt,” she declared, her eyes darkening with desire. “I want to sleep naked. I don’t want anything between us.”
“Fine by me,” I said, a grin spreading across my face as I pushed my pants and boxers down, trying to will my erection to behave.
“Now the t-shirt and socks,” she ordered, her tone light. Then, she cocked her head, reconsidering. “On second thought, black socks and nothing else is kind of sexy.”
“Did you bump your head?” I asked, chuckling as I lifted each leg to pull the socks off.
“No, why?” she replied, her smile widening.
“Black socks are horrible,” I said, tossing them aside. Finally, I peeled off my t-shirt and threw it to her as she pushed her thong down. The last order of business was her hair.
“Sit,” I commanded gently, guiding her to the edge of the bed. I painstakingly removed each of the over forty bobby pins from her hair, running my fingers through her wavy tresses once they were free.
“I love your hair when it’s loose,” I murmured, brushing a strand behind her ear.
“I do, too,” she said, her voice soft and content.
“What should we do with our clothes?” I asked, glancing at the pile on the floor.
“Leave them,” she said, yawning. “I’m tired, but I need to wash my face first.”
I followed her as she padded into the bathroom, watching as surprise flickered across her face when she saw her toothbrush still in the holder, along with a few other items she’d left behind a few weeks ago. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she realized I hadn’t moved anything.
Erika washed her face, using the makeup remover I kept in the drawer of the vanity. I let her finish in peace, heading back to the bed and turning on the news. When she returned, there was a report about Foster Black.
“Shut it off,” she said, her voice sharp as she caught sight of the screen.
“Looks like Foster bought a penthouse in Manhattan,” I remarked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
“Are you worried?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.
“About what?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“That he might pursue me?” she clarified, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
"He can try, but he won’t win. Our relationship is sealed. I never want to be parted from you again. One Elliott brother is enough."
“I’m sorry about Michael,” she replied softly.
“He said eventually he’ll move on. Morgan is happy, and that’s all that matters to him.”
“But I’m sure he wishes she was happy with him,” she added, her voice tinged with concern.
“Maybe one day, he will be,” I said, trying to stay optimistic.
I flipped the covers back, and Erika slipped into the bed, immediately snuggling against me. The warmth of her body against mine felt like the missing piece I’d been searching for.
“That would mean her marriage failed,” she murmured, voicing a concern we both knew was true.
“I just want Michael to be happy,” I said, my hand gently tracing circles on her back.
“And he will be, even if it’s without Morgan.”
“It’s early. What would you like to do?” I asked, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
“Sleep in your arms,” she replied, her voice full of longing. “I have to make up for the two weeks I missed.”
