by K. Bromberg
“Yes. No. Yes …” I blow out an exasperated breath and look up from where I am fiddling with my fingers to meet the clear brown of his eyes. “I just …” My voice trails off for the first time, losing my confidence. I take a moment and when I look down and see the invisible lines on my wrists, they give me what I need to be honest. “This time apart has made me realize how much I love you, but that I’ve been unhappy, resentful … that for some time, I’ve been jealous of the old ‘us’ and I don’t want to be that way anymore. That’s a horrible place to be. We’ve let life get in the way … put everything else first, and I think this—discovering new things together—will make us find that trust in one another, rekindle what we used to have.” I shrug, tears welling in my eyes. “I don’t know. At first I thought the toys might help … but now ... All I know, all I care about is that I miss … us.”
Anderson gives me a measured nod followed by a full blown smirk. The one that fifteen years ago captured my heart when he walked past me in his football uniform during lunch in the quad.
“After this week, us being apart because of work, once again … I realized I miss us too,” he says with a nod of his head. He reaches in the box and moves items around with an obvious unease, but at least he’s looking. He quiets for a moment before looking up and meeting my eyes. “I’ve been stubborn. I’ve been so wrapped up thinking with my ego and not my dick that I’ve completely missed the whole point.” I suppress the burgeoning hope I feel, afraid to believe too quickly that Anderson has finally heard me. “Without you here, I realized that it’s lonely as hell … and that I need to stop and listen to you sometimes, really hear the words you’re saying. And you’ve been saying that these toys don’t mean that I’m not enough, but rather you just want a little more variety.”
I close my eyes, the tears leaking out because he finally gets it. I hiccup back a sob as relief finally finds its place within me.
With eyes steadfast on mine, he leans in and closes the distance between us. “You know what I think?” he says, an eyebrow raising and desire darkening in his eyes.
“Hmm?” I can’t speak. It’s been forever since I have seen that cocky look on his face and in a sense, he just gave me my answer without saying a word.
“I think that we should start with this.” Anderson holds up a Lelo vibrator from the box and I groan out softly at the thought. “Well then, it’s settled. I’m going to go grab a quick shower, and when I come back into the bedroom, you better be on the bed. Naked.” He presses a kiss against my lips. “And ready to get fucked.”
I startle my head back to look at him, the Anderson from fifteen years ago looking back at me. “So, you’ll …”
“Five minutes.” It’s all he says as he stands up and starts to walk from the room, my pulse quickening, and the tingling that’s been gone for so long when it comes to Anderson rushes back like a flash flood. My eyes track him as he pulls his shirt off on his way toward the bathroom. Disbelief and desire surging within me.
He passes through the doorway, stops, and turns around. “Hey, you never told me, did you get my anniversary present?”
My fingers still on my blouse where they are unbuttoning, and the chocolate covered strawberries flash through my head along with the unopened card I couldn’t bring myself to read because of the guilt. “Yes, thank you,” I gush, a little too fervently, before controlling my emotions so he doesn’t know I’m lying. “I forgot when you called to tell you … they were so satisfying. Just what I needed.”
He chokes out a cough, covering his mouth to physically stifle the violence of it.
“Hun, are you okay?” I begin to scoot off the end of the bed to help him but he just holds his hand up to stop me.
After a moment, he recovers and angles his head to the side, staring at me with confusion etching his features. “Just what you needed?” The inquiry in his voice has me explaining further.
“Yeah. The chocolate covered strawberries … so delicious.”
“I didn’t send you … they … those were courtesy of the hotel for our anniversary.” Anderson stumbles over the words, bewilderment etching his features.
Now it’s my turn to be confused. I shift my eyes back and forth as I try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Huh …”
“Nothing else came to the room?”
“No … was it … I wasn’t there much. Maybe …” I don’t finish my thought, worried my excuses may tell too much and that maybe something was delivered while I was being held against my will.
“Hmpf,” he says with a nonchalant shrug that contradicts the beseeching look in his eyes. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and he just stares at me a bit longer before shaking his head in an amused defeat.
“What was it?” Now I’m curious. His conflicting posture and demeanor have me wanting to know what I’m going to miss out on.
“No worries.” He smirks. “It … it definitely wasn’t chocolate covered strawberries.” He chuckles with a shake of his head.
I go to ask for more of an explanation but the look in his eyes stop me as he stalks towards me in a predatory manner “I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you. Make sure I’m just what you need.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my mouth, tongue delving between my lips to dance intimately with mine. And just as abruptly as he started the kiss, he turns and heads back in to the bathroom, throwing, “Five minutes and counting,” over his shoulder.
I stare at the now empty doorway, my heart swollen with love, and my conscience a little lighter. Wow. I’m kind of in a state of disbelief. Over his apologies, his revelations, his acceptance of wanting more.
I pull my shirt over my head and unfasten my bra as I digest it all. I flop back on the bed and laugh aloud. Our tenth wedding anniversary. Who would have thought that not being together might have been the best thing to help us find each other again. Completely fucked up, but incredibly true.
I close my eyes for a moment. Images I never saw but can’t erase run through my mind. I startle when the phone on the bed rings. It’s Anderson’s, and I never pick it up. I usually just look at it and then tell him who called so that he knows.
I reach out for it and sit up when I see the phone number. The Italian country code. My mind immediately thinks the hotel is calling because they found whatever gift Anderson sent me.
“Hello?”
“Ciao. This is the Mauro from Hotel Mulino di Firenze.”
“Hi, yes. What can I do for you?” I ask, toeing off my shoes as I wait for the response.
“You recently stayed with us in our presidential suite, si?”
“Yes but not in the—”
“We found a bracelet under the bed when the room was cleaned that we think belongs to you.”
“Bracelet?” Relief flows through me. I completely forgot about my bracelet, my mind so overwhelmed with processing the last seventy-two hours. But now that I’m reminded, I’m relieved they found it. Now I don’t have to worry about having to explain to Anderson that I lost it. “Thank you so much … but … uh … I was in room two hundred something, not in the Presidential suite?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have called the wrong number then. Let me—”
“I did lose a bracelet. Just, I didn’t have a suite,” I quickly correct him, thinking the language difference might be the problem in understanding, desperate to get my bracelet back.
“Scuzi … let me check.” The line is silent for a moment, filled only with the click of a keyboard. “No, I’m sorry. The bracelet was most definitely found in the suite and it does have this phone number as the occupant …”
My pulse begins to race as adrenaline starts to surge and awareness begins to break through the haze.
I hear more typing. “… ah yes, here it is. This is the correct number for Marco, si?”
“Yes,” I whisper into my husband’s telephone. Marco’s telephone. The hotel clerk’s voice now a distant sound in my ear.
My mind fires to process.
/> Understand the magnitude of what has happened.
Accept that fact that he’s already given me everything I just asked him for.
Already given me just what I needed.
I guess I received my anniversary gift from Anderson after all.
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author K. Bromberg is that reserved woman sitting in the corner that has you all fooled about the wild child inside of her—the one she lets out every time her fingertips touch the computer keyboard. She’s a wife, mom, child rustler, multi-tasker of all things domestic and otherwise. She likes her diet cokes with rum, her music loud, and her pantry stocked with a cache of chocolate.
K. lives in Southern California with her husband and three children. When she needs a break from the daily chaos of her life, you can most likely find her on the treadmill or with Kindle in hand, devouring the pages of a good, saucy book.
On a whim, K. decided to try her hand at this writing thing. Her debut novels, Driven, Fueled, and Crashed of The Driven Trilogy were well received and went on to become multi-platform bestsellers as well as landing on the New York Times and USA Today lists.
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