Taz, page 11
“Uh huh,” Diana answered with a wicked smile, “Better run now, Taz.”
Lindsey gave me the silent treatment on the way over to Ralston’s office. “How did you know where I was? I asked.
“Slate.”
“Hey, I said I was sorry. We’re not all that late,” I pointed out to her.
“It’s rude to keep Dr. Ralston waiting, Trace. I don’t do rude. I thought this counseling was important to you, apparently I was wrong.”
I stopped instantly and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her around to face me. “What the fuck, Lindsey? What’s up your ass at the moment?”
She gave me a glare. “It just seems to me that you might find more productive ways to spend your time when you’re here other than flirting your ass off with the resident skank,” she snapped, jerking her arm free and turning her back on me.
Fuck to the no!
“Wait one damn minute,” I growled, spinning her back around to face me. “It just so happens I went to the shooting range because I’ve been trying to qualify to the new standards. It’s a requirement for all agents to recertify. Diana’s job is to ensure that they do.”
“Hmmph,” she snorted derisively, “It looked pretty cozy to me, but that’s neither here nor there because it sounds to me as if you plan on continuing your career with the Bureau once you’re cleared.”
“And why shouldn’t I? It’s the career I’ve had for years, what do you expect?” I was getting angrier by the second, and her eyes were flashing pure pissed green at the moment.
Time for a showdown.
“I don’t know why I would expect any less,” she snapped, “It’s always been about the FBI, right? It’s never been about me and the kids, has it?”
That did it.
I totally lost it when she flung those words at me. No matter how much I still didn’t remember, one thing that I knew, with every fiber of my being, was that what she’d just said had no truth to it. And what really burned my ass was that she knew it too!
I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up against me. My eyes bored into hers and without thinking, I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her with a vengeance. It was the first time my lips had touched hers since I’d been back. There was no tenderness; it was my way of claiming her and taking possession of what was mine. She would not deny me this.
Her fists pushed against my chest, and then she attempted to pull away, but her efforts were no match for my strength and determination. My lips worked hers, and my tongue invaded her mouth and possessed it. “Stop,” I growled pulling back briefly to look down at her, “Don’t resist me.”
It was something I might’ve said to a perp that was resisting arrest, but at this moment, I was saying it to my wife.
My mate.
The woman that I loved more than life itself.
And suddenly the realization that this was the truth overwhelmed me. My tempo slowed, morphing from anger to affection; and from frustration to need.
Lindsey felt the change and stopped struggling against me. Her arms looped around my neck, and her lips started responding to mine. It was familiar, and as my tongue once again found hers, we struck a rhythm that was ours. I could feel her anger and bitterness dissipate. It was replaced with a soft sweetness that I remembered, and that I could totally bury myself into if only she would let me.
“Taz,” she moaned softly, finally pulling back a bit.
“Lindsey,” I breathed against her soft lips, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Come on, we’ve got to make our appointment,” she said softly.
And we did.
It was the first joint session that we’d had where Lindsey took her place next to me on the leather sofa, instead of her usual chair in the corner. Ralston didn’t miss it either, quirking an eyebrow as his eyes met mine with just a hint of amusement.
It was a fucking start.
Our session with Ralston had gone better today. Lindsey had opened up quite a bit about the flood of emotions she’d experienced during my absence, and then watching those videos that had arrived on her cell. It was the first time she’d discussed them openly while I was present.
I had patiently explained how it had been when I’d come to after being shot and struck from behind; how I had no recollection of who I was, or how I fit into the scheme of things. Of being in that hell hole camp in Santa Tecla, and only knowing of my past what I was being told.
“Babe, I had no reason to believe any different,” I explained. “I had no reason to think everything Talia told me wasn’t the truth. My reflection in the mirror didn’t even ring a bell.”
“I get that, Trace,” she said, turning to me, “And I know that I should understand and be able to get past it all, but it’s just when…well, when you called her…baby girl, that fucking killed me.”
She had started crying then, and I had pulled her against me, kissing her hair; trying to soothe her.
“You need to understand how that happened,” I said to her. And then I had done my best to explain the specifics that had led up to that point. I shared with her my overall distaste for Talia, and the uncertainty that had seeped into my conscious mind at that precise moment. It had been the first inkling I’d had that the back story I’d been given might have been concocted for some unknown reason. I told her about getting flashback images of her green eyes, and of her blonde hair; pieces of a past that I hadn’t glimpsed until that moment.
“Hell, Lindsey, those first couple of videos you received had to have happened while I was still in a coma, babe. I can’t even begin to recall any of that at all. The only one I recalled being conscious for was the last one, and I swear, baby, I only said that because it was those pieces of memory flashing in my mind that was you—not her. Never her.”
“Did you…” she started.
“It never happened again after that, babe. I promise.”
The air had been cleared a little bit, but Lindsey went on to say that she was still having trouble coming to terms with why I would have gone back on an undercover assignment when, ultimately, I’d had a choice in the matter.
“Because it’s what agents do when they need to, Lindsey,” I tried to explain. “Slate knew that I had the skill sets needed to pull it off.”
“I’m sorry, Trace,” she had replied, “But that’s not putting your family first. You should’ve discussed it with me.”
We had reached an impasse there, not to be settled during this particular session.
We had stopped by Darcy’s on the way home to collect Jackson. Harper was spending the night there. Lindsey had asked once we arrived home if I could manage Jackson, while she swung by her mom’s for a bit.
“He’s my son, Lindsey. I think I can manage taking care of him just fine.”
“It’s not that,” she replied quickly, “It’s just that I know you generally nap in the late afternoon because of your meds.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I’m not taking the afternoon dose any longer.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I was kind of tired of being tired all of the time with this shit. I asked my neurologist if I could cut back. He was down with it as long as my enzyme numbers don’t slide. Besides that, I want to start driving again…and, you know, maybe add some other activities back into my repertoire?” I finished, giving her a wink.
She blushed, handing Jackson over to me. “I won’t be long. Jackson needs his diaper changed, and then he’s ready for a snack.”
“Got it,” I said, taking my son and then immediately getting a whiff of his loaded diaper. “Holy shit, dude,” I said nearly gagging, “I think it’s time for potty training, Lindsey.”
She laughed, and gave him a kiss on his head. “Maybe that’s a project for you,” she warned.
I got my boy cleaned up and then put him in his high chair and peeled a banana for him. I put the tiny slices into a plastic bowl and let him have at it.
He was babbling on about something, in between smashing the tiny banana pieces into his mouth. I put some apple juice into a sippy cup and handed it over to him. “There you go, buddy.”
I watched as he maneuvered his sippy cup up to his mouth, taking a big sloppy drink. He saw me observing him, and broke into a big grin, showing off some of his new teeth that were coming in.
God, he was cute. I wondered if I would eventually remember more things about him—and Harper. Like their births, and when they took their first steps? Had I even been around to see those firsts? Or had I missed them because I had been away on some Bureau assignment?
I’m sure Lindsey would fill me in if I asked but, hell, did I really want to poke that hornet’s nest? I couldn’t argue the fact that Lindsey had every right to expect me to put family first. I just wasn’t sure what that meant under the current circumstances.
I needed a career. I’d been in the BAU, but I was in no way equipped to go back to that at this point. I wasn’t even sure what the Bureau could offer me if I didn’t reach the full potential of where I’d been prior to my injury.
Would I land some paper-pushing job? Did they even owe it to me to find something that I could do? I was still being paid, but how long would that last?
These were some of the things I needed to get answers to, and pretty quickly, because I knew it was something I needed to discuss with Lindsey.
I had cleaned Jackson up, and played with him for a bit before he started fussing and I knew it was time for his nap. I had him tucked into his crib sleeping soundly when Lindsey walked in the door at four o’clock.
“Is he down?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“You seem surprised,” I commented, wiping off the tray to his high chair.
“I’m pleased actually,” she replied, hanging up her coat. “It’s good to see you bonding with the kids again.”
“It would please the hell out of me to see you and me bonding again,” I muttered. “How did things go at your mom’s?” I asked, changing from one sore subject to another.
“I apologized to her. I have been kind of rough on her since…well, since all of this happened. I owed her one. We talked things out. I think we’re okay now.”
“That’s good,” I replied. “Speaking of parents, am I close to mine?”
Lindsey laughed at the question, but shit, I needed to know. “You usually talk to them by phone once a month or so. They’re in California, but it’s about time you give them a call. They know about your injury. I filled them in on that a few weeks back, once you were home again.”
“Thanks for that,” I replied, watching as she started making dinner. “I have a lot of things to catch up on, I guess.”
“If you have questions, just ask,” she said, looking back at me from where she was opening a package of ground beef. “I’ll answer anything I can for you.”
“Okay, well let’s see. What are you making for dinner?”
“Seriously? That’s the first thing you want to ask me?”
“Just thought maybe I could help if I know what it is you’re making.”
“Meatloaf,” she replied, “And actually, if you want to tear up those slices of bread for it, that would help.”
“You’ve got it,” I replied, grabbing the bread and an empty bowl to catch the shredded pieces. I took a seat at the table, my fingers tearing the bread into crumbs and watched my wife’s backside appreciatively.
Fuck me. I’d be willing to go out and kill our dinner if that would score me some pussy points, I thought.
I sighed, and continued with my task.
“So, how are things going with your remodeling job for that guy…?”
“Liam,” she supplied. “It’s going great. We landed the rest of the contracts and found out this is just one of his many business investments. He also owns several resort lodges in Pennsylvania and North Carolina. We may have more opportunities there. Mom’s actually meeting with him tomorrow to look at some of those projects.”
“Really?” I asked, quirking a brow. “I bet that’s not going over well with Slate.”
“Ah, it is all coming back to you, isn’t it?” she teased.
I laughed at her observation. “I’m not sure if it’s that or just being around him since I’ve been back but, yeah, I can tell the dude is definitely into the control thing. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t.”
She looked over her shoulder at me from where she was standing at the counter, chopping and dicing an onion. “You had your moments, trust me, but nothing off the charts like it is with Slate at times.”
“Maybe he’s mellowing out.”
“I think it’s more that Mom is finally learning how to put her foot down with him. Besides, their kids are a bit older, and she knows that I’ve got—”
She stopped mid-sentence.
“Got what?” I asked.
She turned around slowly. “It’s just that she knows that I’ve got to focus on family right now, and that means going to the counseling, and taking care of you.”
“Lindsey, I’m able to take care of myself,” I growled a bit. “I’m not fucking helpless.”
She turned back to where she was now mixing the chopped onions into the bowl with the ground beef. She opened the door to the fridge and grabbed a couple of eggs from the door. “I only meant that I felt maybe I needed to stay close by during your recuperation, and she was happy to take a more active role with Liam’s business. He doesn’t seem to mind either.”
I paused for a few seconds, wondering if there was an underlying message in that last comment, but I quickly dismissed it. That was Slate’s deal—not mine. I had my own shit to deal with here. “Well, I do appreciate the fact that you’ve been holding everything down on the home front. I know it’s been a strain, babe.”
She cracked the eggs on the side of the glass bowl, letting the eggs slide into the mixture. “It’s what people do in a marriage,” she replied. “Are you finished shredding the bread?”
“Yep,” I said, standing up and taking the bowl over to her. She took it from me, dumping the bread crumbs in with the other ingredients.
“Can you please set the oven to three-fifty?” she asked.
“Sure thing.” I stepped over to the oven and turned it on. I watched as she slipped her wedding ring from her finger, placing it on the windowsill over the sink. She turned the kitchen faucet on, washing her hands. I did the same, getting the remnants of the bread crumbs washed off.
“Do you happen to know where my wedding band might be?’ I asked as she handed me a paper towel to dry my hands. I hoped like hell I hadn’t lost it because that was just one more reason for her to get pissed at me…again.
“Oh yeah, it’s upstairs on your dresser. You typically left it at home when you did undercover work. But you always wore it while you were with the BAU. Why do you ask?”
Okay…What?
“Just wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost it,” I mumbled, frowning at the back of her head.
She sank her hands into the meatloaf mixture, and started to squeeze and knead it, mixing all of the ingredients together. “Uh, babe, wouldn’t using a wooden spoon or spatula be easier?” I asked, not understanding how she would possibly want to put her hands in all of that.
She glanced over her shoulder at me where I stood directly behind her and gave a smile. “This is how it’s done, Taz, you just have to get your hands in there and work it so that all the ingredients are evenly distributed and embedded with the meat.” I watched as the meaty mixture slid between her fingers, making a wet, squishy sound.
“Let me try,” I offered, spreading my arms around her so that I could join her in the mix. I was right up on her. My hands found hers in the bowl and, together, we both worked the meatloaf, our fingers intertwining with one another’s as they massaged the wet, slick ingredients.
“Like this?” I asked softly, my lips close to the creamy smooth skin on the back of her neck. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and I loved having access to her bare skin. She shivered just a bit, and nodded silently. I could tell I was affecting her and that was fucking fine with me.
“Ummhmm,” she said softly, and my fingers were now massaging hers gently. I brushed my lips across the back of her neck, peppering it with soft kisses, and then let my tongue gently trace the shell of her ear. “Taz,” she half-moaned, “What are you doing?”
“Making meatloaf, babe. Am I doing okay?” I asked, as I continued with my slow, sweet assault of her neck, breathing in her heady scent that had my dick standing at attention. She felt it, too, poking at her backside.
“I…I don’t think I’m ready for this…please, Taz?”
“Please what, baby girl?”
I felt her tense up, but then she relaxed a bit. She elbowed me and I backed off a bit, getting ready for her to give me every reason in the book as to why we shouldn’t fuck. I wasn’t about to debate the issue, but I was fully prepared to do what I needed to do in order to have her underneath me.
Today.
Now.
I watched as she grabbed a paper towel, wiping her hands off and then handing it to me to do the same.
Fuck yeah!
I wiped my hands clean, tossed the towel into the trash and grabbed my wife’s hand, pulling her behind me up the wide staircase to the second floor. Once there, outside of those closed french doors that had been my iron curtain for the past several weeks, I pushed them open, pulled her into the room with me, and then kicked them shut with one swift move.
I pulled her close, raising her shirt up and she didn’t resist; but instead, raised her arms up so that I could pull it up and over her head. I unfastened her front closure bra, releasing her beautiful tits that I hadn’t touched in months.
I lifted her up, and carried her over to the bed—our bed, gently placing her on her back, so that I could straddle her and begin feasting on her breasts.
She moaned beneath me with pleasure. I multitasked, sucking on a breast while I unfastened her jeans, before raising myself back up so that she could shimmy out of them. I pulled my shirt up and over my head, and then quickly unfastened my jeans, shedding them along with my boxers in one swift movement.
Lindsey gave me the silent treatment on the way over to Ralston’s office. “How did you know where I was? I asked.
“Slate.”
“Hey, I said I was sorry. We’re not all that late,” I pointed out to her.
“It’s rude to keep Dr. Ralston waiting, Trace. I don’t do rude. I thought this counseling was important to you, apparently I was wrong.”
I stopped instantly and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her around to face me. “What the fuck, Lindsey? What’s up your ass at the moment?”
She gave me a glare. “It just seems to me that you might find more productive ways to spend your time when you’re here other than flirting your ass off with the resident skank,” she snapped, jerking her arm free and turning her back on me.
Fuck to the no!
“Wait one damn minute,” I growled, spinning her back around to face me. “It just so happens I went to the shooting range because I’ve been trying to qualify to the new standards. It’s a requirement for all agents to recertify. Diana’s job is to ensure that they do.”
“Hmmph,” she snorted derisively, “It looked pretty cozy to me, but that’s neither here nor there because it sounds to me as if you plan on continuing your career with the Bureau once you’re cleared.”
“And why shouldn’t I? It’s the career I’ve had for years, what do you expect?” I was getting angrier by the second, and her eyes were flashing pure pissed green at the moment.
Time for a showdown.
“I don’t know why I would expect any less,” she snapped, “It’s always been about the FBI, right? It’s never been about me and the kids, has it?”
That did it.
I totally lost it when she flung those words at me. No matter how much I still didn’t remember, one thing that I knew, with every fiber of my being, was that what she’d just said had no truth to it. And what really burned my ass was that she knew it too!
I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up against me. My eyes bored into hers and without thinking, I lowered my mouth to hers and kissed her with a vengeance. It was the first time my lips had touched hers since I’d been back. There was no tenderness; it was my way of claiming her and taking possession of what was mine. She would not deny me this.
Her fists pushed against my chest, and then she attempted to pull away, but her efforts were no match for my strength and determination. My lips worked hers, and my tongue invaded her mouth and possessed it. “Stop,” I growled pulling back briefly to look down at her, “Don’t resist me.”
It was something I might’ve said to a perp that was resisting arrest, but at this moment, I was saying it to my wife.
My mate.
The woman that I loved more than life itself.
And suddenly the realization that this was the truth overwhelmed me. My tempo slowed, morphing from anger to affection; and from frustration to need.
Lindsey felt the change and stopped struggling against me. Her arms looped around my neck, and her lips started responding to mine. It was familiar, and as my tongue once again found hers, we struck a rhythm that was ours. I could feel her anger and bitterness dissipate. It was replaced with a soft sweetness that I remembered, and that I could totally bury myself into if only she would let me.
“Taz,” she moaned softly, finally pulling back a bit.
“Lindsey,” I breathed against her soft lips, my heart pounding in my chest.
“Come on, we’ve got to make our appointment,” she said softly.
And we did.
It was the first joint session that we’d had where Lindsey took her place next to me on the leather sofa, instead of her usual chair in the corner. Ralston didn’t miss it either, quirking an eyebrow as his eyes met mine with just a hint of amusement.
It was a fucking start.
Our session with Ralston had gone better today. Lindsey had opened up quite a bit about the flood of emotions she’d experienced during my absence, and then watching those videos that had arrived on her cell. It was the first time she’d discussed them openly while I was present.
I had patiently explained how it had been when I’d come to after being shot and struck from behind; how I had no recollection of who I was, or how I fit into the scheme of things. Of being in that hell hole camp in Santa Tecla, and only knowing of my past what I was being told.
“Babe, I had no reason to believe any different,” I explained. “I had no reason to think everything Talia told me wasn’t the truth. My reflection in the mirror didn’t even ring a bell.”
“I get that, Trace,” she said, turning to me, “And I know that I should understand and be able to get past it all, but it’s just when…well, when you called her…baby girl, that fucking killed me.”
She had started crying then, and I had pulled her against me, kissing her hair; trying to soothe her.
“You need to understand how that happened,” I said to her. And then I had done my best to explain the specifics that had led up to that point. I shared with her my overall distaste for Talia, and the uncertainty that had seeped into my conscious mind at that precise moment. It had been the first inkling I’d had that the back story I’d been given might have been concocted for some unknown reason. I told her about getting flashback images of her green eyes, and of her blonde hair; pieces of a past that I hadn’t glimpsed until that moment.
“Hell, Lindsey, those first couple of videos you received had to have happened while I was still in a coma, babe. I can’t even begin to recall any of that at all. The only one I recalled being conscious for was the last one, and I swear, baby, I only said that because it was those pieces of memory flashing in my mind that was you—not her. Never her.”
“Did you…” she started.
“It never happened again after that, babe. I promise.”
The air had been cleared a little bit, but Lindsey went on to say that she was still having trouble coming to terms with why I would have gone back on an undercover assignment when, ultimately, I’d had a choice in the matter.
“Because it’s what agents do when they need to, Lindsey,” I tried to explain. “Slate knew that I had the skill sets needed to pull it off.”
“I’m sorry, Trace,” she had replied, “But that’s not putting your family first. You should’ve discussed it with me.”
We had reached an impasse there, not to be settled during this particular session.
We had stopped by Darcy’s on the way home to collect Jackson. Harper was spending the night there. Lindsey had asked once we arrived home if I could manage Jackson, while she swung by her mom’s for a bit.
“He’s my son, Lindsey. I think I can manage taking care of him just fine.”
“It’s not that,” she replied quickly, “It’s just that I know you generally nap in the late afternoon because of your meds.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I’m not taking the afternoon dose any longer.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, I was kind of tired of being tired all of the time with this shit. I asked my neurologist if I could cut back. He was down with it as long as my enzyme numbers don’t slide. Besides that, I want to start driving again…and, you know, maybe add some other activities back into my repertoire?” I finished, giving her a wink.
She blushed, handing Jackson over to me. “I won’t be long. Jackson needs his diaper changed, and then he’s ready for a snack.”
“Got it,” I said, taking my son and then immediately getting a whiff of his loaded diaper. “Holy shit, dude,” I said nearly gagging, “I think it’s time for potty training, Lindsey.”
She laughed, and gave him a kiss on his head. “Maybe that’s a project for you,” she warned.
I got my boy cleaned up and then put him in his high chair and peeled a banana for him. I put the tiny slices into a plastic bowl and let him have at it.
He was babbling on about something, in between smashing the tiny banana pieces into his mouth. I put some apple juice into a sippy cup and handed it over to him. “There you go, buddy.”
I watched as he maneuvered his sippy cup up to his mouth, taking a big sloppy drink. He saw me observing him, and broke into a big grin, showing off some of his new teeth that were coming in.
God, he was cute. I wondered if I would eventually remember more things about him—and Harper. Like their births, and when they took their first steps? Had I even been around to see those firsts? Or had I missed them because I had been away on some Bureau assignment?
I’m sure Lindsey would fill me in if I asked but, hell, did I really want to poke that hornet’s nest? I couldn’t argue the fact that Lindsey had every right to expect me to put family first. I just wasn’t sure what that meant under the current circumstances.
I needed a career. I’d been in the BAU, but I was in no way equipped to go back to that at this point. I wasn’t even sure what the Bureau could offer me if I didn’t reach the full potential of where I’d been prior to my injury.
Would I land some paper-pushing job? Did they even owe it to me to find something that I could do? I was still being paid, but how long would that last?
These were some of the things I needed to get answers to, and pretty quickly, because I knew it was something I needed to discuss with Lindsey.
I had cleaned Jackson up, and played with him for a bit before he started fussing and I knew it was time for his nap. I had him tucked into his crib sleeping soundly when Lindsey walked in the door at four o’clock.
“Is he down?” she asked, her eyes widening.
“You seem surprised,” I commented, wiping off the tray to his high chair.
“I’m pleased actually,” she replied, hanging up her coat. “It’s good to see you bonding with the kids again.”
“It would please the hell out of me to see you and me bonding again,” I muttered. “How did things go at your mom’s?” I asked, changing from one sore subject to another.
“I apologized to her. I have been kind of rough on her since…well, since all of this happened. I owed her one. We talked things out. I think we’re okay now.”
“That’s good,” I replied. “Speaking of parents, am I close to mine?”
Lindsey laughed at the question, but shit, I needed to know. “You usually talk to them by phone once a month or so. They’re in California, but it’s about time you give them a call. They know about your injury. I filled them in on that a few weeks back, once you were home again.”
“Thanks for that,” I replied, watching as she started making dinner. “I have a lot of things to catch up on, I guess.”
“If you have questions, just ask,” she said, looking back at me from where she was opening a package of ground beef. “I’ll answer anything I can for you.”
“Okay, well let’s see. What are you making for dinner?”
“Seriously? That’s the first thing you want to ask me?”
“Just thought maybe I could help if I know what it is you’re making.”
“Meatloaf,” she replied, “And actually, if you want to tear up those slices of bread for it, that would help.”
“You’ve got it,” I replied, grabbing the bread and an empty bowl to catch the shredded pieces. I took a seat at the table, my fingers tearing the bread into crumbs and watched my wife’s backside appreciatively.
Fuck me. I’d be willing to go out and kill our dinner if that would score me some pussy points, I thought.
I sighed, and continued with my task.
“So, how are things going with your remodeling job for that guy…?”
“Liam,” she supplied. “It’s going great. We landed the rest of the contracts and found out this is just one of his many business investments. He also owns several resort lodges in Pennsylvania and North Carolina. We may have more opportunities there. Mom’s actually meeting with him tomorrow to look at some of those projects.”
“Really?” I asked, quirking a brow. “I bet that’s not going over well with Slate.”
“Ah, it is all coming back to you, isn’t it?” she teased.
I laughed at her observation. “I’m not sure if it’s that or just being around him since I’ve been back but, yeah, I can tell the dude is definitely into the control thing. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t.”
She looked over her shoulder at me from where she was standing at the counter, chopping and dicing an onion. “You had your moments, trust me, but nothing off the charts like it is with Slate at times.”
“Maybe he’s mellowing out.”
“I think it’s more that Mom is finally learning how to put her foot down with him. Besides, their kids are a bit older, and she knows that I’ve got—”
She stopped mid-sentence.
“Got what?” I asked.
She turned around slowly. “It’s just that she knows that I’ve got to focus on family right now, and that means going to the counseling, and taking care of you.”
“Lindsey, I’m able to take care of myself,” I growled a bit. “I’m not fucking helpless.”
She turned back to where she was now mixing the chopped onions into the bowl with the ground beef. She opened the door to the fridge and grabbed a couple of eggs from the door. “I only meant that I felt maybe I needed to stay close by during your recuperation, and she was happy to take a more active role with Liam’s business. He doesn’t seem to mind either.”
I paused for a few seconds, wondering if there was an underlying message in that last comment, but I quickly dismissed it. That was Slate’s deal—not mine. I had my own shit to deal with here. “Well, I do appreciate the fact that you’ve been holding everything down on the home front. I know it’s been a strain, babe.”
She cracked the eggs on the side of the glass bowl, letting the eggs slide into the mixture. “It’s what people do in a marriage,” she replied. “Are you finished shredding the bread?”
“Yep,” I said, standing up and taking the bowl over to her. She took it from me, dumping the bread crumbs in with the other ingredients.
“Can you please set the oven to three-fifty?” she asked.
“Sure thing.” I stepped over to the oven and turned it on. I watched as she slipped her wedding ring from her finger, placing it on the windowsill over the sink. She turned the kitchen faucet on, washing her hands. I did the same, getting the remnants of the bread crumbs washed off.
“Do you happen to know where my wedding band might be?’ I asked as she handed me a paper towel to dry my hands. I hoped like hell I hadn’t lost it because that was just one more reason for her to get pissed at me…again.
“Oh yeah, it’s upstairs on your dresser. You typically left it at home when you did undercover work. But you always wore it while you were with the BAU. Why do you ask?”
Okay…What?
“Just wanted to make sure I hadn’t lost it,” I mumbled, frowning at the back of her head.
She sank her hands into the meatloaf mixture, and started to squeeze and knead it, mixing all of the ingredients together. “Uh, babe, wouldn’t using a wooden spoon or spatula be easier?” I asked, not understanding how she would possibly want to put her hands in all of that.
She glanced over her shoulder at me where I stood directly behind her and gave a smile. “This is how it’s done, Taz, you just have to get your hands in there and work it so that all the ingredients are evenly distributed and embedded with the meat.” I watched as the meaty mixture slid between her fingers, making a wet, squishy sound.
“Let me try,” I offered, spreading my arms around her so that I could join her in the mix. I was right up on her. My hands found hers in the bowl and, together, we both worked the meatloaf, our fingers intertwining with one another’s as they massaged the wet, slick ingredients.
“Like this?” I asked softly, my lips close to the creamy smooth skin on the back of her neck. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and I loved having access to her bare skin. She shivered just a bit, and nodded silently. I could tell I was affecting her and that was fucking fine with me.
“Ummhmm,” she said softly, and my fingers were now massaging hers gently. I brushed my lips across the back of her neck, peppering it with soft kisses, and then let my tongue gently trace the shell of her ear. “Taz,” she half-moaned, “What are you doing?”
“Making meatloaf, babe. Am I doing okay?” I asked, as I continued with my slow, sweet assault of her neck, breathing in her heady scent that had my dick standing at attention. She felt it, too, poking at her backside.
“I…I don’t think I’m ready for this…please, Taz?”
“Please what, baby girl?”
I felt her tense up, but then she relaxed a bit. She elbowed me and I backed off a bit, getting ready for her to give me every reason in the book as to why we shouldn’t fuck. I wasn’t about to debate the issue, but I was fully prepared to do what I needed to do in order to have her underneath me.
Today.
Now.
I watched as she grabbed a paper towel, wiping her hands off and then handing it to me to do the same.
Fuck yeah!
I wiped my hands clean, tossed the towel into the trash and grabbed my wife’s hand, pulling her behind me up the wide staircase to the second floor. Once there, outside of those closed french doors that had been my iron curtain for the past several weeks, I pushed them open, pulled her into the room with me, and then kicked them shut with one swift move.
I pulled her close, raising her shirt up and she didn’t resist; but instead, raised her arms up so that I could pull it up and over her head. I unfastened her front closure bra, releasing her beautiful tits that I hadn’t touched in months.
I lifted her up, and carried her over to the bed—our bed, gently placing her on her back, so that I could straddle her and begin feasting on her breasts.
She moaned beneath me with pleasure. I multitasked, sucking on a breast while I unfastened her jeans, before raising myself back up so that she could shimmy out of them. I pulled my shirt up and over my head, and then quickly unfastened my jeans, shedding them along with my boxers in one swift movement.
