We share a smile.
Georgina bites her lip and touches my thigh. “Do you think it would be okay if we put him down in his crib for a bit?” Her eyes flash with heat. And I know she’s missed me as much as I’ve missed her.
“I think it’s a great idea.”
Georgie scoops Leo up and gently lays him down. She checks his diaper. Determines he’s good. She turns on a white-noise machine. Double-checks the baby monitor. Adjusts the nightlight and thermostat. And, while she does all that, I take Leo’s temperature again, just for good measure.
When we leave the nursery, we do it hand in hand. And as we walk the length of the hallway, the air between us becomes charged with three days’ worth of pent-up desire.
We reach our moonlit bedroom, where I guide Georgina onto our bed, peel off her pajamas, and my clothes, and proceed to worship every inch of my wife. I kiss and lick and caress and taste, reveling in her curves and newfound softness, my body vibrating with each sultry sound that escapes her throat.
When she comes, I crawl over her writhing torso and plunge myself deep inside her, and then push myself deep, deep, deep, over and over again, as deep as a man can go. As I make love to my wife, I whisper words of adoration. If I were a bottle of wine, I’d be pouring every drop of me into Georgina’s goblet. I’m giving her all of me. No holding back.
When we’re done, and our bodies are quiet and still, I creep into Leo’s room to find him sleeping soundly—butts up coconut—in his crib. I take his temperature again and sigh with relief at the reading. I change his diaper, through which he sleeps like a rock. And, finally, I return to my room, to the bed I share with my wife, and crawl in. “His fever went down again,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around Georgina and pulling her body into mine. “Thank you for coming home.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be.”
The moonlight is wrapping the room in a serene, blue haze. Georgina’s skin is warm against mine. My son is safe and sound and fast asleep, and the baby monitor is turned to high. And so, I close my eyes and give myself permission to drift off to sleep.
As my mind begins to float, a feeling of gratitude and serenity—pure love—washes over me. Many moons ago, this fireball in my arms saw something inside me I didn’t see in myself. She saw something I didn’t even know was there. And now, thanks to her, the one and only Georgina Ricci Rivers, I’ve become the husband and father—the man—I was always meant to be.
THE END