Sure, it was scary, but if they faced it together it somehow seemed doable. Scarily doable.
“Plenty of couples implode after decades of being together. You think they knew any better than we do?” She pulled his hand from his face and smiled at up him. “You don’t have my gut. I trust my gut.”
She trailed a finger over his neck and into the open placket of his shirt. He palmed her back, lust replacing some of the pain in his eyes. Stef had the stray thought that she would do almost anything to keep the pain out of his eyes. Including moving this conversation into the bedroom, where they were always on the same page.
She continued trickling her finger over the buttons on his shirt, stopping short of grabbing his belt buckle and demanding he carry her to bed for some naughty, too-fun-for-words sex.
Turned out she didn’t have to.
He bent and scooped her into his arms.
“Champagne can wait,” he rumbled as he carried her to the stairs. “I have plans for you and these boots.”