Page 115 of Proposal Play
“I will. I promise.” Little does she know I’d probably promise her everything. Damn the complications. Damn the risks. Damn the challenges.
I run my other hand over her freshly fucked hair. She sighs, long and contented as I stroke her strands with no plans to stop. But we probably should clean up. “Do you want to shower?”
I should addwith me. So she doesn’t take the question the wrong way. But before I can say another word, she says, “Your showerisbetter than a sex toy. I’ll get up in a minute. But right now I’m kind of into the bed.”
A laugh bursts from me. I barely know where to start with that statement. “Would you like some sex toysinthe shower too, Maeve? You can have a collection of five supersize vibrators there as well.”
“I require six,” she says, then settles into the bed with acontented hum. “It’s hard to get out of your bed. It’s so nice.” There’s a pause, then she adds, “I slept so soundly here.”
My stupid heart speeds up from that statement. Maybe the bed will make her want to stay longer. But I also picture Vegas and how she conked out right away. “Maeve, when do you not sleep soundly?”
She snuggles up against me, her chin resting on my shoulder. “I’m just saying…I did.”
“I think it’s in your nature to sleep soundly,” I say, since I’d be a fool to get ahead of myself and think it’s me. But I did sleep well with her too.
“I’m a sleep champion. What can I say? Maybe someday you can have a nap date with me. Wait, do you even nap?”
“I nap before games,” I point out.
She scoffs. “That’s like exercise. Like eating broccoli because it’s good for you.”
“It’s still a nap.”
“I meant like a nap where you don’t have anything to do, anywhere to go. Where you lie in the sun and let afternoon dreams take you away.”
“No.”
“You hate relaxation.”
“Not true,” I say.
“A little true.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “It’s a little true.”
“I know you well,” she says, pleased, and Imostlyam too from those four words. She does know me. She knows I’m more wound up than I let on. She knows I like to be in charge, to fix things, to play hard and have fun on the ice, to show up for my friends, to hang out with my dads, to go to new places with her,and now, I suppose she knowsthis—how I like to fuck.
But would she want to know me better? See more of me? Discover the parts she doesn’t know? To know what keeps me up at night? What stresses me out? More so, will she ever catch up to where I am? And while we’re at it, what doIwant? Besides for her to really like my big bed.
Those questions ping through my brain, repetitively. I try to ignore them, but they’re making me antsy. And, well, so is the fact that there’s a wet spot on the bed. I turn to her and swat her ass. “Shower. Now.”
“Are you saying I’m dirty?”
“You’re filthy,” I tease.
“Pot. Kettle.”
I point to the bathroom. “Go,” I tell her.
“So filthy.Andso bossy.”
“You say that like you don’t love my kind of bossy.”
“So cocky too,” she adds, hopping out of bed with a playful grin, and heading straight to the bathroom.
But I can’t move. The sight of her naked, walking so casually, so comfortably into the bathroom is stealing the air from my lungs.
Yes, she’s sexy as fuck with that gorgeous heart-shaped ass. But it’s thewayshe looks in my home.