sleep? That couch is three inches too short, and you know it kills my back. Where’s the gracious hospitality I deserve in return for my investment?”
The family room’s overstuffed furniture had recliners built into the sofa’s two ends, which was great for kicking back and relaxing in front of the television. However, when it came to serving as a bed, the recliners’ framework made the couch far less comfortable to lie on than a traditional style couch.
“Where do you propose I put you? The living room sofa is even worse.”
Worse was an understatement. Samantha had furnished their living and dining rooms with formal Victorian antiques to match the house’s ornate molding and plasterwork. Their Chippendale camelback sofa had spindly legs, hard rolled arms, and a seat that was too shallow to lie on without rolling onto the floor.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t put your workroom in the study down here instead of taking over the guestroom.” Was it possible she hadn’t wanted him to have a place to stay if he flew home to visit Dani?
“If you recall, our daughter was using the computer in the study to do her class work while I was homeschooling her. I didn’t want her having access to the Internet in her bedroom. Or haven’t you read all the horror stories about teenagers and on-line predators?”
“You two are pathetic.” Dani snorted, leaning against the archway’s wall between the hallway and family room. “You slept together for thirteen years. Now, just ‘cause you’re divorced, you can’t share a room? It’s not like you gotta have sex.”
Thank you , Dani.
~*~
“Butt out and go do your homework!” Samantha snapped. The last thing she needed was her daughter championing Nick’s attempts to reconcile.
Huffing, Dani stomped up the steep rear servant’s steps.
“What’re you getting ticked off at her for?” Nick asked.
Because the child was right, darn her. Sleeping in the same room with her ex shouldn’t be a problem. But it was.
“Our daughter made an excellent point, Sammy. You never had any trouble holding me off in the bedroom before I moved out,” he said, reminding her of the cold war they’d engaged in after she’d caught him checking her packet of birth control pills one night following a condom mishap. Their ensuing argument over his lack of trust had been the catalyst to her firing the fatal shot in the condom war that ultimately ended their marriage.
“Just like that, you get to dictate whether we have another baby?” she’d hollered at him.
“No. But I should get to decide if I want to become a father again. If you want to get pregnant, baby,”—he’d flipped his hand toward her in mock deference—“be my guest. But you’d better find yourself another stud, because I’m not making love to you without a raincoat.”
“Then you can forget about me taking El Capitán on any more midnight rides,” she’d threatened, “until you’re prepared to trust me enough to do it bareback!”
“So go ahead and cut me off. There are plenty of other women who have no problem with having safe-sex.”
“This is what I think of your safe-sex !” Sam picked up her embroidery scissors and stabbed every foil packet in his bedside table .
From that morning on, she’d kept her word as stubbornly as he’d kept his. Nick began staying late at the office—or so the man with the rabbit sex drive claimed. His lack of trust and implied intention to satisfy his needs elsewhere provided compelling evidence that her feelings were one-sided and probably always had been.
She’d lain awake beside him every night, smelling his musky scent, her breasts swollen and aching to be touched. At times, her insides throbbed so insistently her womb actually wept, yearning for him. Not a night had gone by that she hadn’t wished she could take back her ultimatum.
Nick tugged her from her memories as he gently cupped her cheek and turned her face toward him. “You know I
The family room’s overstuffed furniture had recliners built into the sofa’s two ends, which was great for kicking back and relaxing in front of the television. However, when it came to serving as a bed, the recliners’ framework made the couch far less comfortable to lie on than a traditional style couch.
“Where do you propose I put you? The living room sofa is even worse.”
Worse was an understatement. Samantha had furnished their living and dining rooms with formal Victorian antiques to match the house’s ornate molding and plasterwork. Their Chippendale camelback sofa had spindly legs, hard rolled arms, and a seat that was too shallow to lie on without rolling onto the floor.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t put your workroom in the study down here instead of taking over the guestroom.” Was it possible she hadn’t wanted him to have a place to stay if he flew home to visit Dani?
“If you recall, our daughter was using the computer in the study to do her class work while I was homeschooling her. I didn’t want her having access to the Internet in her bedroom. Or haven’t you read all the horror stories about teenagers and on-line predators?”
“You two are pathetic.” Dani snorted, leaning against the archway’s wall between the hallway and family room. “You slept together for thirteen years. Now, just ‘cause you’re divorced, you can’t share a room? It’s not like you gotta have sex.”
Thank you , Dani.
~*~
“Butt out and go do your homework!” Samantha snapped. The last thing she needed was her daughter championing Nick’s attempts to reconcile.
Huffing, Dani stomped up the steep rear servant’s steps.
“What’re you getting ticked off at her for?” Nick asked.
Because the child was right, darn her. Sleeping in the same room with her ex shouldn’t be a problem. But it was.
“Our daughter made an excellent point, Sammy. You never had any trouble holding me off in the bedroom before I moved out,” he said, reminding her of the cold war they’d engaged in after she’d caught him checking her packet of birth control pills one night following a condom mishap. Their ensuing argument over his lack of trust had been the catalyst to her firing the fatal shot in the condom war that ultimately ended their marriage.
“Just like that, you get to dictate whether we have another baby?” she’d hollered at him.
“No. But I should get to decide if I want to become a father again. If you want to get pregnant, baby,”—he’d flipped his hand toward her in mock deference—“be my guest. But you’d better find yourself another stud, because I’m not making love to you without a raincoat.”
“Then you can forget about me taking El Capitán on any more midnight rides,” she’d threatened, “until you’re prepared to trust me enough to do it bareback!”
“So go ahead and cut me off. There are plenty of other women who have no problem with having safe-sex.”
“This is what I think of your safe-sex !” Sam picked up her embroidery scissors and stabbed every foil packet in his bedside table .
From that morning on, she’d kept her word as stubbornly as he’d kept his. Nick began staying late at the office—or so the man with the rabbit sex drive claimed. His lack of trust and implied intention to satisfy his needs elsewhere provided compelling evidence that her feelings were one-sided and probably always had been.
She’d lain awake beside him every night, smelling his musky scent, her breasts swollen and aching to be touched. At times, her insides throbbed so insistently her womb actually wept, yearning for him. Not a night had gone by that she hadn’t wished she could take back her ultimatum.
Nick tugged her from her memories as he gently cupped her cheek and turned her face toward him. “You know I
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