My eyes trace a line over her body. She looks gorgeous draped in black chiffon. And she looks like Eve. "A bargain then."
Her teeth sink into her lip. Her eyes pass over me. Taking me in. Picturing me naked. "You stare the most when I'm naked."
"Do I?"
She nods. "Does that make the lingerie a waste?"
Not in a million years. "No."
"What do you like about it?"
"What do I like about knowing you're wearing the lingerie I bought you under your clothes? Is that actually a question?"
"Yes."
I motion for her to come here.
She sets the suit-jacket on a chair. Takes three steps toward me.
I wrap my arm around her waist. Bring my hand to the crook of her neck. "I like picturing you in it. Knowing something from me is on your body. On the most delicate parts of your body." I run my fingertips along her neck until she purrs. "It's our secret."
She nods.
"But if you'd like to wear nothing under your clothes. I'm not sure I can object to that."
Her eyes flutter closed. Her head falls to her right. Her hair goes with it.
That beautiful haze of pleasure.
I want to fuck her. Here. Now.
And I want to whisper promises in her ears all fucking night.
I bring my hand to my side.
She blinks her eyes open. Looks up at me with all that curiosity. Brings her hands to my button-up shirt. "Do you usually cook like this?"
"Of course not."
"Of course not?"
"Naked. Except for my apron."
Her laugh lights up her eyes. "Can I make that happen?"
I take her hands, bring them to my right sleeve. She rolls it to my elbow. Does the same with the left.
"This is not naked." Her fingers linger on the tattoo on my forearm. A geometric rose, shaded black. "But I like it. And this—" She traces the lines with her index finger. "A secret for me to unwrap."
"Oh?"
She nods. "When did you get it?"
"A long time ago."
"Is there a story?"
"My brother Ty. The day he turned eighteen. I told him we could do whatever we wanted for his birthday. He already had this picked out."
"He wanted you to get a tattoo?"
"Us. Matching ones. He'd worked with the artist on the design. His is the same. Only crimson."
She traces the lines with her fingertip. "Why a rose?"
"Our mother's favorite flower."
"Is she still… around?"
I nod. "And still tough. Your mother?"
Her lips press together. "She was around when I was really young. But one day… she started getting high. And it was all she did. She did whatever it took to find her next high. Or whoever. She overdosed when I was thirteen. But I didn't know for a while."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I'm glad she's not in my life."
"Even so. It's hard, not having someone there to take care of you."
She nods. "Your dad?"
"He was in the military. He wasn't around often."
"Now?"
"He had a heart attack. Died before he got to the hospital."
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
Her fingers wrap around my forearm. "Did you ever get time with him?"
"Time, yes, but not enough. He was always deployed. When he was on leave, he made an effort. But I was young. Angry he abandoned me. My mother tried to explain it. The sense of duty. Not just to his country, but to us. He was taking care of the family. He had to leave, to make what we needed to live. All parents did. It was just a matter of how much. He was sacrificing for us. So we could live in a safe place. Afford new clothes and books. I understood the reasoning, but—"
"He still wasn't there when you needed him."
"Yes."
"Why did you join?"
"Trying to make him proud. He was. It was the only time I understood him. And when I served… I understood why he did. Why he wasn't able to give up that life."
"What about it?" she asks.
I step back, breaking her touch. Heat floods my body, but I still move to the fridge. Pull the door open. "I'm supposed to cook you lunch."
"Are you?"
I nod. "Something you'll like. A surprise."
"Can I help?"
"You do take instruction well."
"Only in that one context." Her cheeks flush. "I'm an okay cook. I usually do what's cheap and fast, but I know the basics."
"Perfect." I gather the ingredients. Basil, Roma tomatoes, courgettes, fresh pasta, Parmesan. Then garlic, olive oil, lemon. "Put a pot on to boil. Then chop the courgettes. Thick. Or they'll get soggy."
"There's a double meaning in there somewhere."
"What is it?"
"I'm not sure. But I'm going to figure it out." She fills a pot with water. Sets it on the stove. Finds a chopping board. "What was it that kept you in the military?"
"My ex-wife called me an adrenaline junkie."
"Hmm." Her eyes flit to me for a second. "I can see that."
"There is a thrill to it. The danger. And the sense of duty. You need to be ready to die for your country. For the man standing next to you. To know he's willing to die for you. It's…"
"That sounds scary."
"It is. But it's comforting too."
"Why did you stop?"
"I was recruited for British intelligence."
"You really were a spy?" Her eyes go wide.
"I wasn't a field operative for long. I was considered more valuable in another position."
"A digital spy?"
"More or less," I say.
"So you're just a giant nerd?"
"Did it take you this long to realize that?"
Her laugh is soft. Easy. "You hide it well."
"It was dangerous at times. It still is. But my ex-wife… when I met Laura, I didn't want to stay away any longer. I wasn't willing to die for my country any longer. I wasn't willing to fight for some greater purpose."
"Because you loved her?"
I swallow hard. "Because I wanted to fall asleep next to her every night. Wake up next to her. To live a long life with her."
My chest tenses. I haven't considered Laura in a long time. I certainly haven't thought about falling in love with her.
The years we were good together.
There were so many of them. But how many? When did she start looking for someone else?
When did she start fucking him?
When did she stop loving me?
I swallow my frustration. "That was when I stopped understanding my father. How he could still risk his life when he had a wife. Two sons. Not everyone sees it that way. A lot of men I served with were husbands and fathers. They were making the world safer for the people they loved. They were taking care of their families."
"I've never thought about it like that. I don't know anyone who went into the military. But one of my friends from school wanted to be a police officer. That made more sense to me. Keeping the city safe. New Yorkers… we're our own universe. But I can understand it through that lens. Or thinking about Addie. If there was some threat to her… even if it was a threat to the country too—"