Becca walked out of the bathroom, still towelling her hair dry. She was wearing one of her tank top and boxer pajama sets—red tonight. Jon had protested when she'd said, last summer, that she wanted to find nightwear that was more "feminine”. "I like what you wear to bed just fine, thank you," he'd said, "if you must wear anything at all."
She smiled fondly; Jon had been in the shower a little while before her, and his hair was still damp and endearingly mussed. Reclining on the bed, wearing his old, light-blue pyjama bottoms and no shirt, he was busily checking his text messages, a script on the bed beside him. He'd been reading it when she came home from her yoga class, and now he was discussing it with someone.
"You finished, love?" Jon muttered distractedly without looking up. "Ready for bed?"
Becca didn't answer right away. As she watched him, a flicker of desire started to burn in her belly, changing her smile from fond to . . . something a bit stronger. He was beautiful. She knew he wouldn't particularly like that word, but to her, he was. And she loved him so much. It was more and more difficult for her to look at him and not want him, as time went on.
Becca had always assumed that the longer you were with someone, the less . . . need you would feel, once physical intimacy was no longer new. That's what her married friends had always told her, anyway. But that was not the way between her and Jon. After almost a year, it still took her breath away to even think about making love with him. And right now, the thoughts going through her mind. . . .
She tossed the towel back into the bathroom, for once heedless of where it fell, and walked over to the bed.
"I think I might be, yes," she said softly. On hands and knees, Becca made her way across the bed until she was hovering over his legs. Jon looked up absently from his cell and started, almost as if he was surprised to see her there.
"Wha— Oh!" He blinked at her, and then a grin spread slowly over his face. "What are you up to, Rabbit?"
She took the phone out of his hands, disconnected the call, and threw it onto the floor. Instinctively, he grabbed for it as it went.
"Wait! I was in the middle of—"
"You won't need it, and you won't even miss it, once you find out what I'm up to," Becca told him. Jon blinked again.
"Really." Becca nodded as she began to inch her way, still on hands and knees, up his body.
Jon studied her, head tilted to one side. "What's gotten into you tonight, love? Not that I'm complaining," he added hastily.
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