Nope, I don’t do that anymore.
“It’s all the sex,” I tell her as I catch up to her pace.
She snorts, but I bump into her on purpose as we turn the corner to Atti’s street. “I’m serious. Atticus is…creative.”
Beck laughs. “I love you, but there are some things we’re good at keeping to our relationships, and how your boyfriend dicks you down is one of them.”
“Fine, fine,” I say, and as we continue to jog, his house comes into view.
We’ve stayed at my place some but mostly his, and honestly, it’s so nice not going to work smelling like a bin of bread. And his house is so big and beautiful and clean, and strangely, when I finally got the tour the morning after I slept over, it didn’t surprise me at all.
Attention to detail, the best of the best, and top quality everywhere. The place is classy and masculine but beautiful and thoughtful, too, with family photos matted and framed on the hall wall.
There he is.
On the front porch, shirtless, scary ink covering his godly physique. His gray sweats droop off his hips, and that Adonis belt doing nothing to help. Long hair messy from sleep, he raises a mug off the porch banister at me as he sees us approaching.
“Your King and your coffee await,” Beck says as she adds, “Okay, call me later. Goodish run.”
She jogs on, waving to Atti, and when I make it up the porch steps, he’s waiting with open arms. On the banister, my coffee rests, filling the cool morning air with thick steam. Even though I’m sweaty and gross, he wraps his arms around me tight, pressing kisses into the top of my head like I’ve been gone for years, not forty minutes.
“I missed you,” he says, and I will never tire of hearing a gruff, hard-working behemoth like Atticus say sweet shit to me.
“I missed you, too, and I also decided sex is officially my only exercise now.”
We peel apart, and he wraps my hands around the coffee he poured me. I blow and sip.
“Is that right?” he questions in his deadpan tone.
I nod, sipping. Even his coffee is better. Or maybe it just tastes better with him. “Yeah. Running is awful. I get just as sweaty when I’m monster-taming.”
He snorts, despite his efforts to always seem unaffected. “Monster-taming, huh?”
I nod and cup him through his sweats. Even with my hand outstretched, I can’t feel all of him, and that thought immediately puts me into a frenzied mode. Maybe it is the high from the exercise, or maybe it’s just the cool air and the warm sweat, the hot coffee, and feel of love in my arms, but… “I can demonstrate right now if you don’t mind a little sweat.”
He rolls his eyes, and I giggle because if there’s one thing Atti doesn’t mind, it’s sweaty me.
Last week, he fucked me doggy style for an hour and then proceeded to eat me out for another twenty, despite the fact we were both sweaty and slick. His lack of fuck-giving turns me into a ruthless animal, I swear.
“But before I tame the monster, I have a surprise for you,” I say, rocking to my toes to taste his coffee-stained lips again.
“Yeah?” he asks, pulling the front door open for me. I bring my coffee with me inside, setting it down to peel off my layers. The fire roars from the back of the room, and he guides me to it, wrapping me in a blanket. The way he takes care of me without a single word is a love language I’m addicted to. “Stay here and warm up. I’ll grab it. Where?”
“In my purse, the box with a bow.”
He arches a brow, and I wiggle mine, and that’s yet another thing I love about us–our wordless exchanges. Atticus is slow to speak because he’s quick to think, and when he does finally talk, his words carry thought and value. I’ve learned to slow my responses by being around him. And I’ve also learned you can talk less and say much more.
He returns with the box and hands it to me.
“Thank you,” I say, handing it right back to him with a laugh.
He drives a large finger beneath the ribbon and tugs. A moment later, the lid is popped off and from the bottom of the box, staring up at him is an empty blister pack. He pinches the pack and holds it up, staring at me through the many tiny empty holes.
“It’s a month of birth control, empty.” I smile. “Surprise.”
He drops the package to the floor and yanks me off the fireplace, wrapping my legs around his waist as he walks me to the bedroom.
“Call in sick,” he rumbles.