“And then I’ll go down on you.” I poke his chest as he gathers me close. “And then we can have sex on your amazing bed until you’re so exhausted you have no choice but to sleep on it.”
A yawn attacks me out of nowhere. I didn’t see it coming.
“Your body betrays your plans,” he tells me.
“I’m not tired!” I argue as another yawn trembles my lips.
“Okay, you’re not tired. But I went through the trouble of making this fire, so you have to sit out here with me for at least twenty more minutes.”
“You have to keep me awake.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I talk about my ideas for the pool area. I envision a row of loungers outfitted with fat pillows, a table between each stocked with rolled towels and glasses of water with cucumber slices in them. Lit candles in sconces on the wall in the corners. Seats built into the pool for those who want to soak, not swim.
Five minutes later, my nose is again buried in his neck, and my words are slurred from fatigue. After one more yawn, his arms hug me close. I give in and let sleep take me then and there.