Mia
I’m going on a second first date with my husband.
It sounds odd, saying it like that, but it’s true; that’s exactly what this is.
It’s been just over a week since we began to take things slow again, and even though I’ve only seen him once during that time, we’ve been more open with each other than we have in a long time. We understand each other better, and it seems I was too quick to judge the man who’s my soul mate. I blamed him for things that had gone wrong in our marriage that were beyond our control, and I pulled away when, really, I should have been clutching to him even tighter. We haven’t discussed many of the issues surrounding our breakup. We will. Eventually. But, for now, we’re just taking things slow.
He texted me last night, asking me to dress nice and to be ready by seven p.m. the next day. So, here I am, at six fifty p.m., and I’m still dressed in only my underwear as I stare into my closet with a blank expression on my face.
Shit.
I have nothing to wear.
I mean, my closet is stuffed with clothes, everything color-coordinated, starting with red—and there’s a lot of it—pink, blue, navy, white, and black. Everything is old though. I haven’t been shopping in forever, and I’m wishing I’d had time to shop today, as it would have been nice to buy something new for a second first date.
As I’m mulling over my choices, the doorbell rings, and I curse with frustration.
Shit, he’s here, and I’m still only in my panties and bra.
I grab my robe from the back of the door and loosely hold it around me as I pad barefoot to the front door. I swing the door open, and even though it’s been a couple of days since I last saw him, I forgot just how incredibly hot he is. I mean, he’s my husband, so I’m kind of biased, but, Jesus Christ, he looks good enough to eat. He’s just in trousers and a button-down shirt, but, hell, he could be wearing a paper bag, and he’d still be the sexiest man on earth.
He gives out a long whistle while looking me up and down with pure appreciation in his lust-filled eyes. “Well, this is some greeting. Is this a new fashion trend? Because, if it is, I’m all for it,” he says with a cheeky grin on his face.
I look down at myself and realize that, while I was eye-fucking him, I somehow let go of the front of my robe, and now, any Peeping Tom walking past my apartment knows what color underwear I have on. Red to be exact. I all but jump behind the door and hastily pull my robe back around me.
“Down, boy. I still haven’t picked out my outfit. In fact, you can pick for me.” I tug him into my apartment by the hand and drag him into my bedroom before positioning him in front of my closet. “I’ve been looking at my closet for the past half hour, and I can’t find anything to wear, so if you don’t want us to be late for a second first date, I suggest you pick.”
He chuckles, smoothing his hand over his jaw. “Well, somebody’s bossy today.”
I flush crimson. “Sorry, but you know what I’m like. I just want to look perfect.”
His eyes take a long sweep of me from head to toe before he gives me a mischievous smile as he returns my gaze. “You already look perfect.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure wherever you’re taking me doesn’t include a slut dress code.”
“I’m sure we could find somewhere,” he says with a waggle of his brows.
I playfully push him against the shoulder. “Just pick out a dress,” I reprimand.
“Yes, ma’am,” he responds, still with a smirk on his lips.
He approaches my closet and intently looks through the collection of clothes until he pulls out a red dress and hands it to me. “This one,” he simply says.
Immediately, I notice it’s the red halter neck skater dress I was wearing the night of Alex’s birthday.
I frown, not quite sure. “That’s a pretty old dress.” I’ve worn it once, but everything worn at least once feels old.
“And?” he says with a raised brow. “Old or new, all I know is that I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you wore this dress. You looked beautiful.”
I feel a tender squeeze where my heart sits in my chest, and for a split second, I feel like telling him to skip whatever he had planned for something that doesn’t even require any clothes. However, I ignore all hormones that are slowly simmering to the surface and take hold of the hanger.
I set the dress down on my bed. “Turn around.”
It’s his turn to frown. “You do realize I’ve seen you naked before, right? A lot.”
“I know, but if we want to treat tonight as a first date, then it’s better to keep everything to the imagination for now. So, turn around, please,” I say with a twirl of my finger.
He lets out an irritated sigh, humor twinkling in his eyes before he turns and faces away from me. “This reminds me of the first time I met you, only there’s no mirror for me to peek at your tatas while you change. It’s a pity, as I love your tatas,” he comments, happiness in his voice.
He’s always been obsessed with my boobs. I think he spent the first six months of our relationship with his hands constantly on them.
I giggle as I remove my robe. “You don’t say? I remember times when you’ve spoken to my boobs like they were living, breathing things.”
“You know how I like to give my favorite things the attention they deserve.”
I shake my head, stifling a laugh. “You are something else, I swear.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, baby.”
I have a smile on my face as I discard my bra—since this dress can’t be worn with one—and slip it on. The material clings perfectly to me. I love how it fits my curves, as if this dress were made for me. I pick a pair of strappy red heels that fasten around the ankles, and once I’ve buckled them up, I step in front of the full-length mirror where I smooth my hands along the sides of the dress. For the first time in over half a year, I feel pretty. Sexy even.
My eyes trace over my face, applied with just the right amount of makeup. My cheeks glow with a happy flush, and my eyes sparkle in a way I haven’t witnessed for some time. I feel happy. The churning anxiety I could feel growing in the pit of my stomach all afternoon at work with the anticipation of tonight has now turned into light butterflies, the kind I felt when we first got together. It didn’t matter if he sent me a text message or simply walked into a room; it didn’t stop my belly from erupting into a million butterflies at the mere thought or sight of him.
“You can turn around now,” I tell Tyler.
I watch through the mirror as he pivots on his feet, and as our eyes connect, I feel tingles erupt up and down my body at his pure appreciation. My heart begins to race, and the force of the flutter inside my belly grows stronger. He steps up behind me, his gaze never straying from mine, the green of his eyes almost hypnotizing. His jaw flexes as he goes to touch me, but he retreats his hand before he can.
“You look beautiful.” His voice sounds rough.
I suddenly struggle to take a steady breath. He edges closer until the heat of his front is inches away from my back, and his fingers trace the bottom of my dress.
I tremble.
Even though he’s not touching me, goose bumps spread across my skin, as if he were caressing every inch of my body. Unable to resist, I arch my back, pushing my ass against him, and he heavily sighs.
“Jesus, now that you’ve put that dress on, all I want to do is take it off,” he speaks in a low, guttural growl, his fingers continuing to trace the hem of my dress.
His growl alone is enough to heat me to my core. My insides pulsate at his proximity. He doesn’t have an inch of skin on mine, but he might as well be touching me right now as electrifying tingles scatter all along my body.
“Being in a room that has a bed is way too tempting. If we don’t leave this room in the next five seconds, we won’t be leaving at all.”
I heavily gulp at his erotic threat, and I almost want to take him up on it. The thought of him throwing me on the bed and stripping me bare is all I can think about, all I crave, but the sensible side knows sex was never the issue in our marriage. We can’t get swept up in it, no matter how much I want to.
On a deep breath, I sidestep him and grab a jacket from my closet. I stride to the door as I slip it on. “Let’s go then,” I throw out as I exit my room.
I can’t keep the smile off my face when I hear him say from behind me, “Goddamn it, woman.”
I blink in surprise as we pull up outside the Italian restaurant that started it all off for us. Also, it’s the same restaurant as that dreadful date.
I turn to Tyler with confusion. “You’re bringing me here for our second first date? I would think this would be the last place you’d want to take me, given the bad experience of last time.” I wince, remembering the train wreck of last Friday.
Shit, was that only last week?
He turns off the ignition and turns to me, smiling warmly. “Last week was…” He sighs, pausing. “It wasn’t great, but regardless of that evening, this place still holds a lot of good memories for us, including our first date, and since I’m trying to woo the shit out of you”—he grins—“I’m doing everything to remind you of our good times together. I want you to feel how we felt that night.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and place my hand over his on the steering wheel. “I’ve never forgotten a moment with you, especially not our first date. I had the most amazing night with you that night, and knowing you’re bringing me to the same restaurant for our second first date, I love you all the more.”
He glances at my hand on his, his smile growing wider. He returns his gaze to me. “You know, it’s usually dating suicide to say the L-word on the first date.”
I laugh. “Well, this is a second first date, so different rules apply.”
“So, if different rules apply, would it be okay if I leaned over and kissed you now? Since kissing usually happens at the end of the date.”
My heart picks up speed at the thought of kissing him. “I wouldn’t object.”
His fingers drift from mine, and he shifts closer to me. As if on instinct, I meet him for every inch until we’re centimeters away from each other.
“Is the kissing restricted to this area?” he whispers in a low voice, his thumb coming to a rest on my lips. “Or can it be permitted in other areas, like here?” he continues, now drifting to my neck, fingers pressing against my pulse that’s beating rapidly under my skin. “Or here?” His hand caresses down my chest until his thumb brushes over my left nipple.
My thighs tremble, as if anticipating where his next stop might be, but my hand reaches out to his before he can go any further, and I lead it back to my lips where his thumb lingers against the spot.
“I think lips are the safe bet for now because, if you kiss me anywhere else, I don’t think we’ll even make it inside.”
He grunts, sliding his thumb across my bottom lip. He leans closer, and as he removes his thumb, his lips are quick to trade places. The kiss is slow and perfect, but it isn’t long until he’s pulling away.
“On second thought, kissing right now isn’t a good idea.”
He glances down at his protruding bulge, and I pull back with a giggle.
“Well, you never did have much restraint.”
He grins. “One, I’m a guy. Two, well, look at you.” He points at me, and I blush. “Let’s go inside because, as much as I’m horny, I’m hungry, too, and there’s a calzone with my name on it.”
He exits the car, and I’ve just got one leg out of the door when he appears at my side, frowning.
“Mia, what are you doing?”
“Um, getting out of the car,” I answer.
“Get back inside, and shut the door. I want to open the door for you.”
I burst out laughing. Not that it isn’t sweet, it is, but he’s just not the open-the-car-door-for-his-girl kind of guy, never has been.
“Tyler, I don’t need you to open my car door for me. It’s a moot point now anyway, as I’m almost out of the car,” I say with one leg and half of my butt already poised at the ready to step out.
He leans his arm against the door and looks down at me, his eyes pleading. “Well, maybe I want to be the guy who opens the door for you.” His words hold a deeper meaning, one that really says, I’m fighting for you. I love you. Please let me prove my worth to you.
My heart squeezes, and I can’t help but find this side of him endearing. Everything he does, he does it with reason, with purpose, with fight.
“Okay,” I say, positioning myself back inside the car. I close the passenger door with a smile.
A second later, he opens the door, and I step out.
“My lady,” Tyler greets with a cheesy grin.
I let out a girlie laugh, a resonance that sounds foreign to my own ears but one I’ve also missed. “Thank you.”
He shuts the door behind me, and with his hand placed against my lower back, he leads me toward the restaurant.
“I have a reservation for Bailey,” Tyler tells the maître d’ at the reservation desk.
I watch as he smoothly slips a twenty into the Italian man’s hand. I always find it sexy as hell when he does that, his confidence showing no bounds.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Bailey. Welcome,” the maître d’ says in a thick Italian accent. He grabs two menus and steps out from behind the desk. “Follow me,” he instructs.
He takes us through to the main restaurant area, seating us next to the window, where it overlooks a beautiful garden strewed with fairy lights against the trees.
The maître d’ sets down the menus in front of us and tells us our main waiter will be with us shortly before he sashays off.
Silence sets over us, and I glance over at Tyler and smile shyly, as if this really were our first date. He’s my husband, so I shouldn’t feel nervous, but I do. I’ve shared parts of myself with him I’ve never shared with anyone else. He’s witnessed me violently throwing up after a hard night of drinking. He’s even bought me tampons on the days I couldn’t bear to leave the couch even though he always bought me the wrong flow size.
He soon eases my nerves by simply speaking up, “It doesn’t seem like five minutes have passed since I brought you here on our first date. Is it weird that I remember exactly what you were wearing and what you had for dinner?”
I shake my head, grinning. “It’s odd, but it’s not weird.”
His brows furrow with confusion. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
“No. I mean, odd in a sweet way. Weird would be if you remembered when my menstrual cycle was. Remembering the finer details of the outfit I wore on our first date is odd because, well, it’s not usually a guy thing to do.”
“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not.”
“It’s not.” I grin. “So, what was I wearing?” I ask, testing him on his knowledge.
He sets his elbows on the table and leans forward, a sentimental smile on his face. “You were wearing a red V-neck backless dress that flowed all the way down to your feet. I remember the phenomenal view I had of your tits, but then you turned around, and I thought I was going to come on the spot at the sight of your bare back. So sexy,” he husks out in a dreamlike voice.
I feel the heat begin to rise through my body, my cheeks flushing at his compliment. I heavily gulp, wishing the waiter would hurry up so that I could order a drink.
“And what did I have for dinner?”
“Well, that’s easy. Bucatini arrabiata because that’s the only thing you order from here.” He grins proudly, as if he’s outsmarted me.
I blink with confusion. “That can’t be right. I’ve ordered other dishes.” I’m not that predictable, am I? “What about fettuccine Alfredo? That’s my all-time favorite dish. Surely, I’ve ordered that before.”
He knowingly shakes his head. “Nope, you only like my Alfredo. You occasionally have a side salad and maybe some bread now and again, but every single time we’ve been here, you’ve ordered bucatini arrabiata.”
My mouth gapes wide open when I realize he’s right.
Well, shit.
“Well, I’m ordering something completely different tonight.”
“Like what?” Tyler asks with a bemused smile.
“Like…” I drawl out as I open up the menu and say the first thing I see, “Linguine di mare.”
“That has all kinds of fish in it.”
Shit.
I glance down at the menu in search of the next thing I see. “Fine, I’ll have the Denver steak then.”
He roars out with laughter. “Since when do you eat steak?”
“Since always. I love steak.” I don’t. I hate steak, but I’m trying to make a point that I’m not as predictable as I seem. A point I’m quickly failing to make.
“Yeah, and I love chick flicks with Zac Efron in them,” he deadpans.
A waiter finally comes to our table and asks for our drink order. After we order a beer and a still water, the waiter steps away.
“You don’t have to order something different just to prove a point. I find it cute that you order the same thing every time,” Tyler tells me.
“And you don’t think it’s boring?” I ask seriously.
“No, you just know exactly what you like. It’s endearing.”
I smile, looking back down at the menu, my eyes falling on the house classics. “Still, a change might do me some good. So, I will have mama’s lasagna.” I pick at random and shut the menu.
He tilts his head back and stares at me through his thick lashes, a distrustful grin on his face. “I bet you twenty dollars you’ll change your mind by the time the waiter comes back to take our food order.”
My smile widens as I hold my hand out to accept his wager, and we shake on it.
“You’re on.”
Soon enough, the waiter returns, sets our drinks down, and asks if we’re ready to order. Tyler orders the calzone, and as the waiter turns to me, Tyler closely looks at me, a smirk playing at his lips.
“And what can I get for you, miss?”
Unable to keep the smile off my face, I look Tyler dead in the eye, my expression one that says, Cough up the money.
“I will have the mama’s lasagna, please.”
Once the waiter walks away, Tyler gives me a round of applause, clearly impressed, laughing under his breath. “Well played, Mia Bailey. Well played.”
I give out a satisfied smile as I reach for my glass of water. “What can I say? I’m awesome.”
“That you are,” he agrees before taking a pull of his beer.
I take a sip of my drink before setting it down. I notice Tyler’s eyes follow it, and then a look of worry crosses his features.
“What is it?” I ask, biting my lip with concern.
He holds out his beer. “I’m the worst date ever. Ordering beer when you’re on your health kick. If it bothers you, I’ll get the waiter to take it away, and I’ll order a soda.”
I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “I’m not an alcoholic, Tyler. So, stop worrying, and enjoy your beer.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “It would have been a shame to send it back. It’s a pretty awesome beer.”
I give a theatrical roll of my eyes. “All right, you don’t have to show off that you have a beer, and I don’t.”
He barks out a laugh. “Okay, I’m sorry. It’s odd to see you without a drink though. The last time I saw you without a drink was when you were pregnant.”
Immediately, he freezes, regret paling his complexion. I can’t deny it doesn’t hurt, the mere mention of the pregnancy before I lost the baby, but instead of freaking out, I’m able to rationalize and keep calm.
“Mia, shit. I’m sorry. It just slipped out.”
I wince, hating that he sounds almost terrified, as if he’s anticipating me flipping out, screaming, hitting him, anything. I feel sad that, a couple of months ago, that’s exactly what I would have done. I was completely out of control.
I reach out for his hand and take it in mine, our fingers slipping between each other’s. “It’s okay,” I say softly, slowly. “It’s a part of us, of our past. I don’t expect you to ignore it, and I’m sorry if I made you think you had to tread on eggshells. You don’t. I mean, I’m still struggling with the loss. I don’t think it’s anything I will truly recover from, but the pregnancy is something I will never feel sad about. Those first five months were one of the happiest times of our lives.” My throat grows thick with emotion, but I don’t try to hide it. Instead, I show it for all it’s worth. “We might not have met her when she was alive, but while she was growing inside me, I felt a connection with her that I will never forget.”
His intense green eyes sparkle with the onset of unshed tears, and the look of pure love radiates from his gaze alone. It’s an inner-soul, earth-shattering, electrifying kind of gaze that I feel to my very bones. I experienced it the day I met him, the day he married me, and every other day in between.
“I didn’t think it was possible, but, damn, I’ve fallen in love with you all over again. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
His words are a direct line to my whole nervous system. My breath hitches, my lungs constrict, and a sudden rush of heat sets my heart on fire. I try to speak, but it seems my vocal cords are working alongside my emotions as I fight not to cry.
“I know we’re taking things slow, and we have so much we need to talk about, to deal with, but, God, I wish this table weren’t between us right now. In fact, I wish we were back at your place,” he complains, his voice suddenly husky, still entrancing me with his stare.
He’s all I can see, all I can focus on, and the rest of the world seems to fade into the distance.
“Why?” My one-worded question is barely audible, my throat rough.
He leans even closer, and his proximity causes the air around us to thicken. It’s not just my emotions that are going haywire now; my libido is joining in, too.
He lowers his voice, and I inch toward him. “Because I want to strip that hot-as-fuck dress from your body and lavish you with my lips, my tongue. Then, I want to bury myself inside that pretty little pussy of yours where I’d plan on being for the rest of the night.”
I press my lips together to stop the moan from slipping from my mouth and squeeze my thighs together.
Jesus Christ, the temperature has suddenly risen by about thirty degrees.
“Oh,” is the only breathless response I can give.
Shit, I wish I hadn’t ignored my sexual urges earlier this evening, as everything he described is everything I want. Desperately so.
He sits back and throws back his beer while I sit here, trying to get my lungs to cooperate with my racing heart.
Fuck.
“You know, if you keep talking like that, our second first date will end the same as our first date,” I manage to speak out, my breath still a little choppy.
Tyler’s eyes grow wide with elation, and he pins me with another alluring gaze that tells me tonight isn’t ending until both of us are in bed. Together.
A little over an hour later, Tyler is already pulling up outside my apartment. We decided to skip dessert and coffee, as it seemed like indulging in dessert was the last thing on our minds. After that moment in the restaurant earlier, something in the air shifted, and although the food was great, it was impossible to enjoy, as all I could focus on was Tyler and wishing I were devouring him instead of mama’s lasagna. I’d spent months with my sexual switch turned off, unable to feel, but now, I am hornier than I’ve ever been.
Learning my lesson from earlier, I stay seated until Tyler rounds the car and opens the passenger door.
“You’re a quick learner,” he quips with a grin as I step out of the car, clutching hold of a takeout box filled with two slices of New York–style cheesecake. Just because we skipped dessert doesn’t mean we don’t want it later.
“I could get used to this.” I match his smile as he shuts the door.
“Good,” he says, turning to me. He begins to guide me up the path. “Because you’d better get used to it.”
We walk up the steps to my second-floor apartment before I let us both inside. I head into the kitchen and set the cheesecake in the fridge. I turn to Tyler just as he enters the room. I shrug my jacket off and place it over the back of a kitchen chair.
“Do you want a drink?”
My question goes unanswered as he simply stares at me. It’s a gaze that holds a lustful command, and my breath hitches at the impact his green eyes have on me. He’s looking at me as if he wants to cherish me yet rip my clothes off at the same time. The heat I’ve felt scorching through my body since the restaurant rises even more until I feel like I might combust at any given second. He stalks toward me, finally answering my question.
“I don’t want a drink, but I know what I do want.”
“And what’s that?” My inner thighs begin to shake as a mixture of anticipation and sexual awareness becomes a living, breathing thing. The air grows heavy between us, and my lungs burn as I struggle to breathe, the lack of oxygen enough to make me light-headed.
“You,” is all Tyler says.
I’m not quite sure who initiates the next move, but suddenly, all I’m aware of is Tyler’s mouth on mine, and everything becomes a blur of fiery passion, desperate hands, and eager, wet tongues.
He wastes no time in picking me up and setting me on the countertop. I lock my legs around his hips while I feed my fingers through his hair and yank him closer to me, plunging my tongue deeper into his mouth. He groans in response, and he glides his hands up my thighs, my dress inching higher with his pursuit toward my throbbing center. I bite against his tongue as his thumb brushes against my panties that are no doubt soaked with my arousal, which I’ve been feeling on and off all night. He does it again—only this time, his thumb presses down on my clit. My hips jut out as every single nerve ending sends a thrill of electricity shooting through my body like a live wire.
“Tyler,” I gasp in between kisses, my fingers digging into his scalp.
“You’re so fucking wet,” Tyler huskily whispers as his thumb continues to circle against my protruding bud.
My pussy clenches as I slowly begin to reach the heights of heaven with his touch alone.
“Please,” I beg. I’m not quite sure what I’m asking for, but I know I don’t want him to stop what he’s doing.
“Your panties are soaked.”
My shoulders sag with disappointment as he pulls his hand out from under my dress.
“Feel how wet you are; taste it,” he commands, pressing his thumb between my lips.
Instinctively, I suck it, swirling my tongue against his flesh, tasting myself.
“See how fucking amazing you taste? Like peaches and cream, only better.”
I gaze at him with hooded eyes, sucking even harder on his thumb before grazing my teeth against his skin. He grunts, snatching his thumb from my lips. Quickly, his lips greedily capture mine, taking my breath away as he owns my mouth. Simultaneously, he removes every inch of my clothing until I’m left in only my red heels, which are currently digging against Tyler’s ass.
“Tyler, you’ve got too many clothes on,” I pant in between kisses, clutching his shirt.
“Hmm, so I do. We should rectify that, don’t you think?”
I moan my response against his mouth, flicking my tongue against his, reaching my hands to his belt buckle. I blindly unfasten it along with his zipper. I force his pants and boxers over his hips, and as he steps out of them, I quickly unbutton his shirt until I’m smoothing my hands over the ripples of his stomach.
My eyes become fascinated with the sharp lines and contours of his chest, my fingers outlining his abs.
“Um, my eyes are up here, baby.”
I flicker my gaze to his face, smirking as my fingers caress his stomach. “I’m just enjoying the view.”
“Oh, yeah? Do you like what you see?” he asks with a playful grin, his hands smoothing over my thighs until he reaches my hips.
My breath hitches as he grips my ass and pulls me closer to the edge, his cock lined up with my pussy.
His question goes unanswered when all I can whimper is, “Tyler.”
He shifts his hips, and his dick slides along my clit. I grasp his shoulders in a death grip, tightening my legs around his waist in a desperate bid to feel him inside me.
“It seems our second first date isn’t ending much differently than our first date, huh?” he huskily comments, circling his hips, initiating a delicious friction against my clit.
My hips involuntary rock against him, a gasp falling from my lips.
“Stop teasing,” I whisper impatiently.
“How much do you want my dick?” I ask.
“So much,” I say, thrusting my hips outward again, my breathing becoming heavier by the second.
“Tell me what you want, and you can have it.” His bright eyes smolder under his lashes, staring me down, as he continues to push the head of his cock against my throbbing bud.
“I want you. I want you to fuck my pussy. I want you to make me scream.”
I feel delirious with lust, and all I can focus on is Tyler as he consumes my every sense. He’s everywhere, yet I can’t get enough of him.
“Please. Pretty please,” I add breathlessly, clinging to his shoulders like my life depends on it.
“With sugar on top?” he asks while his cock slides down my pussy and presses against my entrance, a grin on his face.
“Uh-huh,” I moan, biting against my bottom lip.
“What my lady wants, my lady gets.”
He then slams his cock inside me, causing me to shriek at the impact, and it takes only minutes until I’m screaming out his name.