Mid Life Love: At Last (Mid Life Love #2)(8)

Please don’t read it out loud...Please don’t read it out loud...

“She says better communication.” He smiled even wider and I exhaled, relieved.

“And what about you, future wife? What did your future husband have to say about you?

I flipped the card over and forced myself to look at it: Dear Future Wife, the only thing I wish I could change was letting you wake up late this morning because I should’ve woken you up early, taken you in the shower, and made you forget about this dumb ass meeting. However, now that we’re here, I want you to be fully aware that right after this is over, I’m going to make sure the words “marriage counseling” and “intimacy problems” never come out of your mouth again. :-)

I blushed. “He says the same thing.”

“Okay, well great. Now we’re getting somewhere. Communication is very key in having a successful intimate relationship. Moving on... In an average week, how many times do you currently have sex now, future wife? And in all honesty, is it fulfilling?”

Is he f**king serious? “A few times,” I said, hoping he would move on to something else.

“A few times?” Jonathan looked into my eyes. “That’s what you honestly think?”

Stop it...I knew he was reading my mind right now and could sense that I wanted him to stop, but he was clearly enjoying my embarrassment.

“Doctor, what classifies as a few times?” Jonathan kept his eyes locked on mine.

“Two or three times a week, Mr. Statham.”

“Hmmm...And a lot?”

“Well, I guess I would say eight to ten times a week.”

“Interesting.” He leaned forward and ran his fingers across my golden anchor necklace. “So Claire, having heard that, you think a few times is accurate for what we do?”

“Yes. I do.” I didn’t want the doctor in our sex life. At all. When I’d made this appointment, I’d been assured that the focus would be on us discussing our expectations for the long term—our goals and our dreams. There was no mention of dissecting what we did in the bedroom and I was damn sure I never said anything about “intimacy problems.”

“I am so hurt by these claims, Doctor.” Jonathan put his hand over his chest. “I mean, to have the love of my life tell me that she feels like we only have sex a few times a week is just...Is this the part where I’m allowed to cry?”

“Yes, Mr. Statham. Let out all of your pain.”

He smirked. “Is our sex not memorable to you, Claire? It must not be if you think we only have sex two to three times a week. I want an honest marriage as well, so if you think we have intimacy problems and that our sex is that terrible—”

“We have sex every day.” I nearly lost it. “Every. Day. Sometimes more than once. Sometimes more than twice. And every time is f**king memorable. Happy?” I narrowed my eyes at him and he kissed my cheek.

“Um...” The doctor adjusted the sleeves of his tunic. “Well...I....Very good for both of you. Let’s move away from intimacy then, shall we?”

“Thank you.” We both said in unison.

Once the counseling session finally came to an end, we both shook Dr. Choate’s hand and said we’d be “in touch” about scheduling part two. As soon as the elevator doors opened, I rushed inside and pressed the “door close” button over and over—anxious to get far away from white sand and invasive notecards.

“What’s the rush, future wife?” Jonathan stepped directly in front of me and pressed my back against the wall. “Do you have another meeting to go to right now? Somewhere else where you plan on discussing our intimacy problems?”

“I never said we had intimacy problems...That was a mistake and you know it.”

“Hmmm.” He brushed his fingers against my necklace.

“I can’t believe you pushed me into telling him about our sex life.”

“He asked.”

“You didn’t have to tell him the truth.”

“I thought you wanted me to be honest.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I’ve told you a million times that I don’t lie.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell him what I wrote down on that card?”

He slipped his hand underneath my skirt. “If you would like, we can go back up and I’ll happily tell him that my future wife wishes that my head was between her legs right now.”

I blushed and shook my head.

“Are you sure?” He tugged at my panties. “I’m not opposed to telling him that.”

“That’s okay...”

He lowered his mouth to my neck, taking his time to press gentle kisses onto my skin as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

I looked up at the floor numbers that were flashing above the doors as we passed them by—Eight, Seven, Six, and pushed him away from me.

“We’re almost back in the lobby,” I murmured as I stepped to the other side.

“No. We’re not.” He hit the stop button and walked over to me, pressing me against the wall again. “I actually think we do have one huge intimacy problem, Claire.”

“What?”

“Why is it that you can only be open with me about sex in text messages and notecards?”

“What are you talking about?”