He stares at my mouth, watching while I chew. I swallow, then take a sip from the glass of cider he’s poured for me. It’s my favorite kind—not too sweet, with the perfect level of dryness. As soon as I put my glass down, he lifts the bowl out of my hand, sets it on the coffee table, and tackles me, taking me down to the cushions.
He’s got some serious skills with the way he’s able to get his knee between my legs without me even realizing it until I start auto-humping. He cups the back of my head, his fingers pressing in. I don’t know why it makes me so hot; it’s like he’s holding on so I can’t get away from his mouth. Not that I’d want to.
He presses his lips to mine, sniffing. He backs off, giving me the funky eye. Then he goes in for another kiss, a little longer this time. He sucks my lip, running his tongue along it, and pulls back again.
“Ketchup?” he says.
“They’re the best.”
Randy resumes kissing me, and this time he slips his tongue into my mouth. After a few seconds of exploration, he breaks the kiss and shakes his head. “Nope. I don’t like it. You need to brush your teeth. That tastes like shit.”
He’s still got a knee between my leg, and he’s kind of thrusting against my pelvis. I can feel his hard-on. He can’t be all that negatively affected by my bad breath.
“Just try one.” I reach over and pluck a chip from the bowl, bringing it to his mouth.
He leans in and sniffs again, his nose wrinkling.
“Eat it.”
“I’d rather eat you.”
“Pretty sure ketchup-chip breath is better than vagina breath.”
“That’s debatable. I love the way your pussy tastes.”
“Like I’m made of maple?”
“Exactly.”
“Open your mouth.” I press the chip against his bottom lip, but he keeps it closed. I keep pushing until the chip breaks and crumbles in his beard and onto my chest. A few crumbs tumble into the V of my shirt.
“Oh! Look at that. Your shirt’s dirty now; it needs to go in the laundry.” He shoves his hand under my top and pulls it over my head. I’m braless, as is normal when I’m at home—his or mine.
“I thought we were going to watch a movie.”
“We could make our own.” He waggles his brows, his grin devious. “I need a new one for next week.”
Randy leaves in the morning for a series of away games. He’ll be gone for ten days. It’ll be our longest separation since I moved to Chicago. We spend most of our free time together. It’s almost a good thing he has to travel; otherwise I feel like we’d be immersed in just each other, all the time. This way I get to hang with Sunny, Violet, and Charlene.
Randy pulls his shirt over his head so we’re matching in our level of nakedness. Then he settles between my legs. Instead of tongue wars, he brushes his lips softly over mine. “When I get back from this series, I want to talk about you moving in.”
The change of topic throws me, having gone from hating on ketchup chips, to wanting sex, to this. “You mean to live with you?’
He licks his lips and nods. “Miller’s gonna put his condo on the market at the end of the season, which means he’ll be moving in with Sunny, so you should move in here.”
He’s so matter of fact. “Because it’s logical or because you want me here?” I ask.
“Option two. Unless you’re not ready.” He props his chin on his fist, looking a little unsure of himself.
“You’re positive you want me and my ketchup-chip breath in your space all the time?”
“The ketchup-chip breath I’ll deal with if it means you’re here all the time.” He drops a warm kiss on my lips. “Do you know what makes away games bearable?”
“Video phone sex?”
Randy smiles. “That’s number two on the list. Number one is knowing you’re going to be here when I get back.”
“It’s super awesome when I answer the door naked, isn’t it?”
“So awesome. Except that one time Lance was with me.”
I cringe. “He got an eyeful.” All I was wearing was a ribbon around my throat, tied in a little bow. After Lance left, Randy made me put the ribbon back on, and we had intense bathroom-vanity sex. He does not like that Lance has seen me naked, at all.
Randy makes a sound, like a growl. His version of territorial is sexy combined with vulnerable. “So you’ll move in, then?”
“End of the season?”
“Or whenever you’re ready. No pressure, though.”
I cup his face in my palms and bring his mouth to mine. “I love you.”
He smiles and grabs his phone from the coffee table, then sits back on his knees. “Say that again, please.”
“I love you.”
He passes the phone to me, and I hold it up, recording the broad expanse of muscle and ink. He’s so stunning.
“You’re the most beautiful thing in my life,” he says.
I shiver as he yanks my pants down and tosses them to the floor. I ignite when he lowers his head and puts his mouth on me.
Everything about my relationship with Randy is intense, from the sex to the way we love each other. I keep waiting for the newness to fade and the emotions to temper, but they haven’t. Being with Randy is like the first and last bite of my favorite dessert: it’s full of giddy anticipation and blissful satiety.
I don’t know if we’ll always be like this, or if things will settle with time and familiarity, but for now, we are ravenously in love.