happen that way. What good had her leaving done? None, none at all. She had lost him and the baby, he had lost her and baseball. So much pain tucked away, hidden from view, but now brought to the surface.
She wanted to lean into him, press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, the way she used to do when they found themselves like this, her bored and needing him, him watching scores and getting his “man time” on.
But those times she had done that, gave him that little kiss, entwined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, his attention on the TV had quickly shifted and she found herself flat on her back, underneath his warm weight, all pretense of interest in baseball scores flying away on the West Texas wind.
She scooched down the couch and laid her head on the throw pillow farthest away from him. The sound was turned all the way down on the television and the voiceless men on the screen chatted and smiled as they flashed highlight reels and injury reports.
“Are you ready to go to bed?”
His innocent words sent a heat searing through her.
She adjusted the pillow and settled a little deeper into the couch cushions lest she crawl right into his lap.
“No, I’m fine.”
He cleared his throat. “I mean, I can go in the other room if this is bothering you.”
“Nuh-uh.” She pushed her feet down, unable to stop them as they went in search of his heat. It was a timeless position for them. In those early days of their marriage, she’d be worn out from the pregnancy, needing more rest than usual, feet cold despite the Texas summer heat.
You have to stop thinking about him, about all those sweet days.
She jumped when she felt his warm touch on her arch. Before she knew what happened he had pulled her feet into his lap, lightly massaging each toe, the curve of her arch, the hills and valleys of her ankle.
The touch was familiar and ancient, part of another time, another Shelby, another Ritt.
They let themselves into the house quietly, stifling giggles with kisses. It was three in the afternoon. Miracle of miracles he didn’t have baseball practice. His mom would still be at the bank, his father at the plant, and with any luck, Kyle would be at the library. They’d have the whole house to themselves.
It wasn’t often that they had this sort of luxury. Usually they were stealing kisses behind the dugout.
“Kyle?” Ritt smacked her hand away as she ran it up under the bottom of his Randall High Cougars T-shirt. “Stop that.” He growled, but his laugh and quick kiss took the sting out of his words. “Kyle?” A little louder.
“All clear?” she asked, sneaking her fingers under the hem of his shirt once again. She couldn’t help herself. She loved to touch him, warm skin, taut muscles.
“All clear.” He swung her up and closer to him.
In one smooth move, she wrapped her legs around him and buried her face in the warm sweet curve of his neck.
She inhaled in anticipation. She loved the way he smelled, like laundry soap and leather.
“Shelby?” The sound of her name on his lips brought her back to the present, back to her very real husband and his very real touch. Except now his fingers had slid under the leg of her yoga pants and had stilled against her skin.
His other hand reached out and he laced fingers with hers, gently tugging her up and closer. Before she could breathe either a protest or an encouragement, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
Past and present merged into one as he kissed her. Slowly at first, little nips and touches, then deeper until her head began to spin from the wonder of it all.
The feel of his lips on hers was as natural as breathing. Why had she been fighting this? What was the point when being held in his arms felt so good…so right? And it was so much easier to melt into his embrace and not worry so much.
She wrapped her arms around him, sighing as he lifted his mouth from hers.
Then his warmth was gone and she found
She wanted to lean into him, press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth, the way she used to do when they found themselves like this, her bored and needing him, him watching scores and getting his “man time” on.
But those times she had done that, gave him that little kiss, entwined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, his attention on the TV had quickly shifted and she found herself flat on her back, underneath his warm weight, all pretense of interest in baseball scores flying away on the West Texas wind.
She scooched down the couch and laid her head on the throw pillow farthest away from him. The sound was turned all the way down on the television and the voiceless men on the screen chatted and smiled as they flashed highlight reels and injury reports.
“Are you ready to go to bed?”
His innocent words sent a heat searing through her.
She adjusted the pillow and settled a little deeper into the couch cushions lest she crawl right into his lap.
“No, I’m fine.”
He cleared his throat. “I mean, I can go in the other room if this is bothering you.”
“Nuh-uh.” She pushed her feet down, unable to stop them as they went in search of his heat. It was a timeless position for them. In those early days of their marriage, she’d be worn out from the pregnancy, needing more rest than usual, feet cold despite the Texas summer heat.
You have to stop thinking about him, about all those sweet days.
She jumped when she felt his warm touch on her arch. Before she knew what happened he had pulled her feet into his lap, lightly massaging each toe, the curve of her arch, the hills and valleys of her ankle.
The touch was familiar and ancient, part of another time, another Shelby, another Ritt.
They let themselves into the house quietly, stifling giggles with kisses. It was three in the afternoon. Miracle of miracles he didn’t have baseball practice. His mom would still be at the bank, his father at the plant, and with any luck, Kyle would be at the library. They’d have the whole house to themselves.
It wasn’t often that they had this sort of luxury. Usually they were stealing kisses behind the dugout.
“Kyle?” Ritt smacked her hand away as she ran it up under the bottom of his Randall High Cougars T-shirt. “Stop that.” He growled, but his laugh and quick kiss took the sting out of his words. “Kyle?” A little louder.
“All clear?” she asked, sneaking her fingers under the hem of his shirt once again. She couldn’t help herself. She loved to touch him, warm skin, taut muscles.
“All clear.” He swung her up and closer to him.
In one smooth move, she wrapped her legs around him and buried her face in the warm sweet curve of his neck.
She inhaled in anticipation. She loved the way he smelled, like laundry soap and leather.
“Shelby?” The sound of her name on his lips brought her back to the present, back to her very real husband and his very real touch. Except now his fingers had slid under the leg of her yoga pants and had stilled against her skin.
His other hand reached out and he laced fingers with hers, gently tugging her up and closer. Before she could breathe either a protest or an encouragement, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
Past and present merged into one as he kissed her. Slowly at first, little nips and touches, then deeper until her head began to spin from the wonder of it all.
The feel of his lips on hers was as natural as breathing. Why had she been fighting this? What was the point when being held in his arms felt so good…so right? And it was so much easier to melt into his embrace and not worry so much.
She wrapped her arms around him, sighing as he lifted his mouth from hers.
Then his warmth was gone and she found
Similar Books
