Page 101 of Loving at 40

Suddenly, I’m ravenous for him. I need him closer. I need to feel his heartbeat against mine, matching mine. While my mouth stays on his, my fingers fumble and struggle to remove his flannel shirt. Archer takes over, nearly ripping it off his body while keeping our mouths attached. Next comes his T-shirt. It’s plastered to his skin but quickly removed. My hands travel the dips of his muscles until I reach the waistband of his jeans. He leans back to watch my fingers, shaky and rough as I tug at the button and yank down the zipper. His forehead leans against mine.

“I love watching you take my clothes off.” His breath comes out ragged. “It means you’re as desperate for me as I am for you.”

His head snaps up, and our eyes meet. My hands rest inside his pants, against his hips.

“I am desperate for you,” I whisper. “I need to feel you are alive. Make love to me.” I’m ready to lower to my knees and beg him. “I love you.”

Archer’s eyes widen and flick from one to the other of mine, searching, seeking something. “I don’t want you to say it because you’re afraid.”

“The only thing I’m afraid of is losing you. It’s why I’ve held back. I thought you’d leave. You’d grow bored of laundry and dinners and schedules, but the thought of truly losing you—”

His thumb over my mouth stops the words, but I won’t be deterred.

“I love you, Archer. I love you.”

He didn’t believe in such emotion. He wanted it, but he’d been told he didn’t deserve it. No other woman would love him according to another, but she was wrong. How could someone not love this man?

“I love you,” I say one more time for good measure. Suddenly, he’s lifting me, and my legs wrap around his waist. We’re a fumbling mess with my slick body and his partially dressed. We exit the tub, and I whimper, “Here.”

I need him here, now, in the bathroom, but he shakes his head.

“Bed, baby.” He sets me down, reaches back into the shower and turns off the faucet, and then hands me a towel. For a moment, I’m thinking he’s rejecting the idea of sex. With the towel around my torso, I’m lifted once again. This time, Archer cradles me to his chest and takes us to our room. Using his foot to close the door, the soft click of it secures the barrier to the hallway, and it’s a start signal as we fall to the bed. We’re at one another again. Mouths. Teeth. Fingers removing my towel and his jeans. We don’t speak. We breathe one another in, absorbing each kiss, each touch, each gasp until he slides into me, and we groan.

“Say it again, ’Locks,” he begs while his hips lead our rhythm, and my body rocks in response.

“I love you,” I say, looking up at him over me, holding his eyes while my hand strokes along the side of his face. I love this man with everything in me.

“I love you, too, Jenna.” My name is that heartbeat of wonder and worship, but I don’t want him to wonder. I don’t want him to ever doubt my feelings for him. I press my lips to his mouth and we kiss until we no longer can. Our bodies take over, expressing our emotions, keeping us connected until the release reminds us we are alive.

We are in love.

42

[Archer]

While Jenna works the remainder of the week from home, it’s a blur of faculty meetings, student check-ins, and parent emails. The time bleeds into her scheduled winter break, and by the weekend, we are out of Elk Lake City. She needs separation from the situation, and I need to see my sister.

A strange excitement hums through me as we travel three hours south. Pulling into the snow-covered drive reminds me of Christmases missed but also the occasional winter visit here as a family when I was young. With the girls in the back seat, I’m hoping to give them similar memories. This will be my first Christmas home in more than a decade.

Jenna rubs a hand up my back as I carry Rosie up to the apartment. My sister knows we’re coming, and we’ll head over there as soon as we unload our things.

“Looks like someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” I grumble, noting the unmade sheets and the pillows laying askew like someone had a pillow fight.

“Thankfully, he’s not in it, though,” Jenna mutters before chuckling.

Mason has been here, but he currently isn’t.

“We need to burn them,” I mumble, and Jenna laughs a little harder.

It’s good to hear the sound, and I’m hoping this week’s visit will restore us to the flame we sparked last summer. Not that things aren’t hot between us because they are. We make love every night, taking our time. Anna’s already promised to take the little princesses overnight for us at least once. We’ll spend Christmas with my family and then be home to ring in the new year.

Family. Home.

“I’ll get them washed.” Immediately, Jenna steps forward, yanking the sheets off the bed while I finish bringing up the bags from my truck. As it’s almost lunchtime, we told Anna we’d meet her then.

When we enter the main house, it’s strangely quiet. The patter of the girls’ feet rushing for the kitchen is all we hear until a rumpled-looking Anna enters off the hallway leading to the master suite. She looks like she just woke up, but I’m quick to dismiss the thought as she rushes for me.

My too-thin sister holds me tight, and I breathe in a fragrance that reminds me of my mother. As her arms wrap over my shoulders, her hug even feels a bit like hers, and for a moment, I’m a troubled boy, a misbehaved teen, a college boy returning home, and a man who’s been gone too long without explanations. I blink back the rush of liquid burning my eyes and squeeze my sister before releasing her.