Forever (This #5) (7 page)

“Uh huh. Please.”

The steam billows as the warm water bounces off our bodies. Gabby and I love to shower together. She shaves my face from time to time when the stubble starts to annoy the hell out of me, I wash her hair, and we take turns lathering up each other’s bodies.

She always likes to stay in a few minutes alone to shave her legs. Never mind the fact the shower has two heads on each side with a huge bench against the wall that’s long enough for both of us to lie on—wide enough for both of us too. In other words, it’s not like she doesn’t have space.

Gabby says something about it being the place where she does her best thinking. I get needing time alone to think. My place is the gym, and she’s never there with me, especially not there naked, so it’s not as torturous.

I put my hands on her hips, turn her to face me, and kiss her forehead. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

She smiles and closes her eyes. “Kay. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

I push the glass door open just enough for me to get out so the floor doesn’t get wet. As I close it, I can’t help but find myself staring. Never would I have thought I’d marry someone or be this happy. Never had I thought I’d actually find a woman as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Never did I think my heart was capable of so much love. She glances at me, smiling. “What?” When we met and started dating, she was so self-conscious, but she doesn’t even attempt to cover her perfectly curvy body anymore.

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Have I mentioned how much I love you this morning?” I ask, taking the towel from the rod.

“I don’t know. Seems we’ve had this conversation a time or two. Is it possible to say it too many times?”

“I sure as hell hope not.”

She smiles. “I hope not too. I love you.”

I’ll never tire of the way those three words roll off her tongue, and I hope she never gets sick of hearing me say it. She is making it hard as hell to leave her, especially while she leans over and starts at the base of her shin, with her plump ass sticking out. My blood starts to rush south. She has that effect on me every. Damn. Time. It doesn’t matter if we’ve made love all night, all day, or both. I run the towel through my hair, then rub it against my body, and wrap it around my waist before heading to the closet, which is an extension of the bathroom.

Last night literally blew away my expectations. I thought Gabby would come home, put the little sexy apron on, and we’d make love after dinner. After all this time, there are sides of her that are predictable, yet she still continues to surprise me.

On our first meet in the middle date, in the elevator of that cheap hotel, I promised her we’d take the sexual part of the relationship at her pace. My plan had always been to allow her to do stuff as she felt comfortable and never a minute sooner. It wasn’t about me and my needs. For years women had fallen at my feet to take care of my every desire and fantasy. Veronica had definitely held nothing back. I shake my head. I cringe. In hindsight, I guess she thought the more she did, the higher the chance I’d commit to her. I was a dick for not seeing that. Or maybe I did, but just didn’t care.

“So what are we doing today that’s so special?” Gabby asks.

I’m grateful for the interruption because Veronica is the last person I want to be thinking about. I drop the towel and pull a pair of boxer briefs from one of the drawers, slide them up, and start to browse through my shirts. “Going to get a Christmas tree, decorating the house, and then later, I have a special surprise.”

“What is it?”

I cock my head to the side, scrunching my brows. Pulling the purple gingham button-up she likes from the hanger, I wonder aloud, “Help me out with what part of the definition of surprise I need to explain to you?”

“I know the definition of surprise, smart-ass.”

I lower my head and chuckle while buttoning my shirt. “Get your sexy ass out here and get dressed so we can go already before all the good trees are gone.”

“I’m sure there is no shortage of trees.”

“Okay. Hurry and get your sexy ass out here and get dressed so we can go before all the hot chocolate is gone.” I pull a pair of slacks from a hanger, then grab my discarded towel.

“Did you say chocolate? And I need—”

“This?” I hold the towel up as I open the glass shower door.

She snatches it. “Yep. Nice outfit.”

I hold my arms out. “You think I should wear it like this?”

Her eyes bulge. “No, girls already fawn all over you. They are definitely not allowed to see you in that shirt with just underwear.”

“Trust me. I don’t want anyone ever seeing me in my underwear ever again. I’m all yours.” With that, I turn and head to the bedroom. I slip the pants on, tuck my shirt in, and then throw on a pair of socks and shoes.

“That’s music to my ears, Mr. Banks.” She raises her voice, I guess assuming I was no longer nearby.

“I’m still in here, Mrs. Banks.” I peek my head around the corner. “And I like that view.”

She whips me with the towel. “Stop. We’re never going to make it out of the house today if you don’t stop looking at me like that.”

“Yes, we’re leaving. How about I go put some coffee on for us while you impress me with your super ability to be the fastest woman on this earth to get ready?” As if she wasn’t the whole package, she seriously can beat me sometimes at getting ready. Natural beauty doesn’t require a ton of makeup or extravagant hairstyles.

She’s finished drying her body, wrapped the towel around above her breasts, and is drying her hair with my towel. “Where are we going to get a tree anyway?” I watch her like she’s a rare piece of art that needs deciphering. After all this time, I’m still totally taken by her. When she’s done drying her hair, she wraps it in one of those cone things girls do, and then saunters to the closet where she drops the other towel around her body, letting it pool on the floor around her feet. She leans over, sticking that ass up in the air again as she slathers her lotion up and down her legs.
Damn
. All those years I spent thinking getting married would mean the end of a sex life. I was so fucking wrong. I adjust myself in my slacks. Gabby glances back. “Hello? Or is that a surprise too?”

My pulse races, but I exhale, trying to cool the heat that’s suddenly enveloped me. “Not a surprise. We’re going to Calhoun’s.”

She nods before laughing. “Not sure why I asked. I just finally figured out how to get around this little town without the GPS.” She pulls the drawer open in front of her and takes a pair of black lace boy shorts before stepping into them and sliding them up. She still hasn’t put a bra on, and she’s absolutely torturing me. Then, it occurs to me. This is her paying me back for my supposed tease and torture this morning. I put my chin between my fingers and grin. Does she actually know who she’s playing with? “Where is Calhoun’s?”

“North Georgia.” I take a few long strides to close our distance before turning her to pin her against the island dresser in our closet. “What are you doing?”

“Getting dressed, of course.” Her cheeks redden, her breath hitches, and those delicious lips curve into a sly smile. “I thought we lived in north Georgia.”

“This is the northeast metro Atlanta area, but I’m talking North Georgia Mountains. Like an hour from here.” I push my hips into hers. “But you wanna know what I think, Mrs. Banks?”

“Uh huh.” She bites her lip, her eyes widening.

“I think you’re playing a little game. You’re teasing me.”

She does a terrible job of keeping her amusement in. “Never.” Nibbling her neck, I place my hands on her hips before I start to tickle her. She takes the opportunity to duck out from under my arm, which catches me off guard. She’s on the other side of the island. Her breasts still totally unrestrained. “Oh no you don’t!”

“Your giggles are music to my ears. I’d do anything to hear them.” We stare into each other’s eyes for what seems like forever, neither of us blinking, both of us trying not to smile. I’ve already put my contacts in, though, and I end up losing this battle of the eyes. She definitely won the teasing round. My dick is pounding, and I have to get away from her, or we’ll never leave. “Get dressed, Gabby Girl.” I hand her the matching bra to her panties. Me walking out won’t end this teasing round, either. For the rest of the day and night, I’ll have to think about her in just lace panties. Torture.

“Yes, sir. So bossy.”

A vibration buzzes on the elastic waistband of my scrubs. It’s the end of a thirty-six-hour shift, and my body crashes into the concrete blocks that comprise St. Mary’s Hospital, as I reach for my pager. My arms feel boneless and my legs shaky. I’m not sure what is worse: the summer injuries and traumas or the hacking and vomiting that come with cold and flu season. At least the traumas aren’t contagious. Coming into my rotations, I thought the long hours would be what pushed me past my brink, but I’ve started to wonder if surviving the many variations of the modern plagues which compromise the very organs I desperately need to do my job may be.