The Dance (5 page)

Sure, it took me a little time to learn the basics, like how Will wanted his laundry ironed and folded and that he preferred a homecooked dinner every night at precisely 7 p.m. It surprised me at first that I didn’t know these little quirks about him. But I had to admit it was kind of refreshing discovering new things after all these years.

I took pride in making our little starter apartment a warm and cozy home for Will to relax in after a busy day at work. I didn’t mind the trail of clothes he’d strip out of as he walked through our place at the end of the day. Picking them up was a small price to pay for the sight of his naked muscular back, ass, and legs as he headed down the hall to our bedroom. When his dark hair covered the bathroom sink after he shaved, I simply wiped it up and went about my day. And I understood the long hours he spent working, both at the office and at home. He was providing for our family’s future.

Being Mrs. Will Forsyth kept me busy, at least for the first couple of months. Once my routine was set—dusting, vacuuming, laundry, groceries, and dinner made, I still had plenty of time on my hands.

“So, do you like it?” An antsy smile crossed my face.

Plunging his fork into the Swiss chicken, Will said, “This is awesome. Can’t you tell I like it?”

“Well, being that it’s your third helping, I had a pretty good idea but it’s always nice to hear you say it.”

“This is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth all day.” He put his fork down and picked up my hand. His lips skimmed over my knuckles before kissing them. “And later tonight I’ll give you the best thing you’ve had in your mouth all day.” He winked and went back to eating.

“We really need to work more on the sweet talk, hon.”

“You know I’m not a poet,” he mumbled through a mouthful of couscous.

I gave him a weak smile before going back to eating. We ate in silence for several minutes. A couple of weeks before the wedding, Will mentioned how he loved the idea of me being a stay-at-home wife and mother. He was earning more than enough to cover our expenses. His mom never worked outside the home and he wanted our children to have the same experience. Since it seemed so important to him, I agreed. Besides, I had no real aspirations as far as a career.

Once I realized Will would be my future I never gave other options much consideration. I hadn’t mapped out any post-graduation plans other than being Will’s wife. I went to college because that’s what was expected. I chose business as my major because it was general enough to apply to most jobs in case I did get one. When Will decided to continue his education and go for his Master’s in business, I decided to follow along.

It wasn’t that taking care of Will didn’t fulfill me. I enjoyed making sure every night a homemade dinner was on the table waiting when he came home. Watching him devour the food thrilled me and gave me a sense of pride. The dishes started off very simple—meatloaf, spaghetti, chicken and stuffing casserole. I followed the recipes closely, never veering off course. As the year went on I got more comfortable in the kitchen and started to experiment more. I even made up a couple of original dishes. Before I knew it, I discovered not only did I have a talent for cooking but a passion for it as well.

I nervously pushed the green beans around on my plate. “Will, can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure. What’s in that pretty head of yours?” He raised his eyebrows, a grin playing across his mouth. “Better?”

He was making an effort with the sweet talk.

I smiled. “Much better.”

“So, what’s up?”

I inhaled a slow breath, sucking in my nerves. I wasn’t sure where they were coming from. I’d never had a problem before talking to Will about anything. But I’d never really discussed anything that was so important to me before.

“What do you think about me going back to school?”

“We just got out of school.”

“A year and a half ago.”

“You already have a degree,” he said.

“I was thinking about taking a few cooking classes.”

“You already know how to cook. Three helpings.” He pointed to his almost empty plate.

“And I love that you love it. You have no idea what a thrill it is when I see the look of pure pleasure on your face when you’re eating something I cooked for you.”

He tugged on my wrist. “Come sit in my lap and I’ll double thrill you.”

“Will, I’m serious.”

“Veto.” He went back to eating.

“Excuse me?”

“I like having you here when I get home from work.”

“It wouldn’t interfere with that.”

Leaning back in the chair, he blew out a frustrated breath. “Bryson, what about our plans with the house and starting a family?”

Our wedding gift from Will’s parents was a piece of land for us to build our dream home on. We were scheduled to meet with the architect next week. Forsyth Construction would do the build with Will overseeing the project.

“Enrolling in culinary school wouldn’t . . .”

He raised his hand. “Hold up. A minute ago it was a few cooking classes and now its culinary school?”

“I thought I could start out with a class or two and if I like it maybe go for a degree,” I explained sheepishly.

He leaned forward, taking my hand in his. “Am I not doing a good job as provider and husband?”

“You’re a wonderful husband and provider. Me wanting to follow my passion has nothing to do with our marriage.” I ran my thumb over his wrist.

“We agreed you’d stay home.”

“I know, but . . . I’ve never really been driven toward anything, career wise. Cooking and creating dishes gives me a sense of accomplishment and pride. And I’m good at it, you said so yourself.”

“Bry, I’m glad you get a kick out of doing this stuff. I like your cooking, but shit, I’ll eat anything. You know that. Not sure where you got the idea you could make an actual career out of it. It’s not like the Food Network is gonna bang down your door. Plus, it would be pretty embarrassing for my wife to be working as a cook in some greasy diner.”

My shoulders drooped as I lowered my head, shrinking into my seat. The only sound in the room was the clanking of Will’s knife and fork on his plate. After a few minutes, his hand on my forearm came into view.

“I just don’t see the point in you taking classes to learn something you’re already good at.” He was trying to apologize for being an insensitive jerk without saying he was sorry. “We’re meeting with the architect next week. Once things get rolling on the house you’ll be too busy with that. Bryson, look at me.”

I bit my lower lip in an attempt to still the quiver and raised my gaze to meet Will’s.

“I’m going to build you the ultimate kitchen. Top of the line appliances, granite countertops, double oven, a wine fridge. Anything you want.”

“It sounds incredible. But . . .”

“But nothing. The plan has always been to build our dream house and start a family within the first two years of being married. I don’t see any reason to screw things up just because you’re a little bored.” Pushing his chair back, Will stood, tossed his napkin on the table, and walked into his home office.

End of discussion.

I stayed at the table for a while and sulked until the sting of his words dulled. I didn’t have much arsenal to argue my point very effectively. Everything Will said was true. A year and a half ago I did agree to all the terms he pointed out. But at the time I didn’t realize I had a passion for something besides Will.

I grabbed our plates and went into the kitchen. As I rinsed the dishes, Will’s words drifted back into my head. Maybe he was right. I’m focusing on the cooking because I’m bored. Once my day got filled with taking care of our family and home, I’d realize how pointless the idea of me going to culinary school really was.

I bent down to load the dishwasher and tried to clear my mind of disappointment. Standing back up I felt the heat of Will’s body behind me. I had been so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear him come into the small space. His arms snaked their way around my waist.

Nuzzling my neck, he said, “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.” I sighed.

“Don’t I make you happy?”

I turned, facing him. “Yes you make me happy. It’s not about us. It’s about me. I’ve never had a passion for anything.”

Will teasingly cocked his brow, making light of what I was saying.

I slapped his chest, annoyed. “I’m not joking. Maybe it is a phase. I don’t know. I just don’t understand why I can’t take a class or two and see what happens.”

“Because you taking time away from us to chase a hobby was not the agreement.”

From all our years together I knew it was pointless to continue this discussion. Will was stubborn and once he made up his mind that was that.

Will leaned down and nibbled along my jaw as his hands slipped under my shirt. My body stiffened as I gave him a slight shove.

“I’m not in the mood.”

He continued nibbling, ignoring my mood. “I thought you weren’t mad.”

“I need to put the food away and clean the kitchen,” I said, dodging his advances, and turned back toward the dishwasher.

Placing his hands on either side of me, Will gripped the edge of the countertop and rubbed his already hard dick against my ass. The thin material of his sweatpants and my yoga pants were flimsy barriers.

“Will, knock it off. I have stuff to do.”

He brushed my hair to the side and lowered his lips to the nape of my neck. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Heat radiated throughout my body as my bad mood shifted. I felt incredibly sexy, confident, and powerful knowing I was the only one who affected Will this way. Exciting him to the point of no control. Tilting my head to the side, I wiggled my ass, pushing into his erection. A deep moan rumbled from his chest, causing goosebumps to cover my skin.

“Give me a minute to put the food away and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

“No. I want to fuck you right here and now,” he mumbled against my hot skin.

“In the kitchen?”

“Mmmhmm.” His hand slipped under my tank top and traveled up my stomach to my chest.

“What about my couscous?”

While one of his hands massaged my breast, Will slid his other hand into my yoga pants and between my legs. I squirmed trying for some friction.

“I love eating your couscous,” he said, flicking his index finger over my clit.

Reaching around, I grabbed his hips, and pulled him in closer.

I was getting lost in the moment when suddenly Will ripped my bra down and pinched my nipple hard.

“Ouch!” I yelled.

His voice was husky and low. “Oops.”

“It’s okay. It just surprised me.”

He roughly peeled off my tank and flung it to the side. Will wasted no time in unclasping my bra. I twisted around to face him, needing to put my lips on his body. He stopped me abruptly, spinning me back to face the counter.

His fingers wrapped around my wrist and he placed my hands on the edge of the sink. “Hold on tight.”

“Are you sure you want to do this in here?”

The palm of his hand came down hard on the left side of my ass.

“Will!” I yelped.

“Stop talking and just go with it.”

“Don’t hit me so hard.”

Will and I always had a good sex life. I mean, I had nothing to compare it too but it felt pretty good. We were fairly adventurous, having had sex in his car, in my car, and in one of the empty student apartments at college. Like most couples, the sex shifted in intensity. Sometimes it was gentle while other times it was more passionate. Me, being half naked, bent over in the kitchen, was definitely out of the box for us.

My grip tightened with the jostling of my body as Will yanked down my yoga pants and panties at the same time.

“Stick your ass out more.” He commanded.

“Will, what are you doing? This is crazy.”

“Shut up!”

“Hey, watch it!”

“Just do what I say, Bryson.”

I jumped slightly when the tip of his tongue touched the back of my knee. Will’s lips licked and sucked up my thigh. My knees buckled as he sunk his teeth into my ass cheek.

“Will, that hurts!”

“It made you soaking wet, though,” he mumbled against my lower back.

“What’s gotten into you?”

I felt the heat and weight of his body pressed against my back. Reaching around he plunged two fingers inside me, causing my body to convulse. He pumped in and out of me three times before withdrawing his fingers. I felt the back of Will’s hand run over my ass.

“Your pussy juice is all over my dick. It’s so fucking hard and ready to fuck you in the ass.” His hot breath coating my neck and shoulders.

I wasn’t a huge fan of dirty talk. Maybe if it were mixed with sweet romantic words I could get on board with it. I knew the point of it was to make things even hotter but it usually made me cringe. Will seemed to be spurred on by the crudeness. For that reason alone, I tried my hand at talking dirty but never quite got the hang of it, so I kept quiet.