Never Giving Up (Never #3)(81)
When it became obvious that Mattie had hit her limit of fun for one day, we changed her into her pajamas and kissed her goodnight, placing her in the car seat that had a permanent place in the back of my parent’s car. Their gift to us for her birthday was an evening alone. At first I was not happy with the idea of spending the night of her birthday away from her, but eventually I was convinced by my husband who told me stories of how she would never even remember us sending her away and would likely sleep the entire night away regardless of where she was. I couldn’t really argue with him about it and a whole night alone did sound fabulous. Eventually we both agreed and now watched as my parents drove away with my toddler in their car.
“I can’t believe she isn’t a baby anymore,” I whispered quietly, trying to wipe away the single tear that had managed to escape before I could stop it. Porter’s hands wrapped around my waist from behind and his chin rested on my shoulder.
“No, I guess she isn’t, is she? But she’s a beautiful and smart little one-year-old. She has to grow up, Ella. Think of all the fun experiences that are still in store for us.”
Perhaps dads just lacked the gene that made mother’s ache at the thought of their baby not being a baby anymore. No one ever warned me that birthdays were tough business for moms. I’d spent the day remembering her birth, thinking about the tiny baby that I had held in my arms just one year ago today, and comparing that image to the chubby, smiley, happy child that roamed around our yard all day. She’d eaten cake for goodness sake. She’d soon have her last bottle. Where did it stop? I needed a distraction from my sad yet happy thoughts so I moved to clear the food from the table.
Everyone stayed and helped clean up and then said their goodbyes, leaving Porter and I on the porch, waving to our friends as they left us to enjoy the rest of our evening. I leaned up against the railing, watching the taillights of our family and friends drift away when I felt him come up behind me, his arms caging me in, his mouth hot against my neck again.
“Want some cheesecake?” He rasped against me.
“Is that code for something?” I grinned.
“Nope. I really want some cheesecake.” He pushed away from me and walked back into the house. I rolled my eyes with a smile, but followed him into the house anyway. I noticed some of Mattie’s toys hadn’t quite made it back into the toy box and started picking them up absentmindedly.
“Babe, stop it. Don’t start cleaning. Why don’t you go upstairs and get in some comfy pajamas and I’ll bring up enough cheesecake for both of us?”
“Now that’s an offer I’ll take you up on,” I said, dropping the toys on the floor at my feet with a smile. “Bring some wine too.”
“What kind of a man brings his wife cheesecake with no wine?”
“Not my man,” I said with a laugh and walked towards the stairs. When I walked into the bedroom my eyes grew wide with shock and my hand came to my chest to hold in the breath I felt escaping from me.
The bedroom was bathed in candlelight and there were vases with all different kinds of flowers scattered around the room. Hanging on the door to the bathroom was a hanger on which hung a new and very expensive piece of lingerie. I walked over to it, fingering the soft silk, trying to think of when Porter had enough time to orchestrate this without me knowing anything about it.
I took the silk and lace off the hanger and went into the bathroom. If he’d gone to all the trouble of setting this up, the man sure as hell was going to see me in a sexy piece of lingerie. The fabric felt wonderful against my skin and I made a note to myself that I needed to wear sexier things to bed more often. Just having the silk trailing against my thighs made me instantly feel sexier. I should try not to wear the flannel nightgown all the time.
When I came out of the bathroom I was met with the sight of my husband carrying a tray with plates of cheesecake and wine glasses. He stopped as soon as he saw me and I watched his throat constrict as he swallowed, his eyes roaming all the way from my head, down to my feet, and back up. His eyes lingered on my breasts and between my legs longer than any other area and I felt the heat pooling there, as if his eyes made it happen.
“You found my gift,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, his eyes still roaming over my body.
“I love it,” I whispered softly. He finally found his senses and set the tray down on the dresser. He turned back to me and my heart rate picked up as he slowly stalked towards me.
“You look . . .” he paused and I stopped, waiting for him to find his words. “Beautiful.” He took another step towards me. “Perfect.”
I was lucky in that Porter never seemed dissatisfied with my body after having a baby, but that didn’t stop the insecurity from seeping in from time to time. My body was different than it use to be—not worse or better—just different. And even though we never had a problem being intimate, having a child in the house changed things between us. When before we would make love throughout an entire night, now we were lucky if by the time we were done we hadn’t woken the baby. The frequency of sex and the ability to really let ourselves enjoy one another, gave way to naptimes and trying to be quiet so that we could get some sleep afterwards.
We were parents. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but life was different now.
When he was just inches from me, I held my breath and closed my eyes, anticipating his touch. I could feel his eyes on me and I knew he was enjoying looking at me as much as I enjoyed having his gaze burn over my skin. I slowly let out a sigh when his hand finally landed on the curve of my hip, and I leaned into his hand when I felt it gently cup my cheek. His thumb grazed over my cheek and I worried my bottom lip between my teeth.