My cell vibrates, so I speed through washing my hands to answer it.
“Hey,” I say, really trying the innocent thing, but I’m too stoked to pull it off.
“Are you in the bathroom?” Theresa sleepily chuckles. “Your voice is echoing.”
“I’m not peeing.” I crack the bathroom door and check on Landon. His entire body is covered with the comforter minus one leg dangling off the edge. I press the door closed and whisper into the phone. “So, can I cash in?”
“You need a maid of honor?” Her voice squeaks on the last word, and I do a total Snoopy dance, buck naked in my bathroom, stifling my squeals with my girlfriend. Theresa asks question after question, but she’s rattling them off so fast I don’t understand them.
“Wait, what?” I say through my smile.
“Few hours ago.” A large sigh flits through my lips as I grab a towel for my waist and slide to the chocolate brown bath mat. “It just fell out when we were in the shower.”
She snorts. “It wasn’t in the middle of sex, was it?”
“No. It was . . . sweet.” I let my mind replay Landon’s eyes, his words, his hands. “Perfect.”
“Good. You deserve nothing less.”
“Thanks.” My fingers splay across the bath mat, and I mindlessly pick at the fraying edge. “We did it after though.”
“Ah, engagement Chocolateville.” She sighs now, and I laugh picturing her taking that huge bite of cheesecake. “I’ve heard it’s up there with make-up sex.”
A weird weight sinks into my stomach. “It was nice.”
“Nice?” She gasps. “Oh no. Less than stellar, huh?”
“It was fine. I’ve just had so many mood swings. Then we couldn’t find a condom, so we had, like, a halftime breather. So, you know, not totally revved up. Not his fault.”
“That’s too bad. I’ve heard that engagement sex is better than the actual wedding night.”
“What? No.” I wrap my finger around a loose string in the mat and pull. “The wedding night will beat out everything.” It has to. I am determined to find our spark again specifically for that night.
“Think about it. You’re running around all day. Waking up early, getting dressed, undressed, standing in heels, hugging a million people you don’t know, lugging the presents up to your apartment after, or even worse . . . you might jump right onto a plane and the second you get to your hotel you’re jet-lagged and beat. You’ll probably draw straws for who can just lay there while the other person does the work.”
“Wow, thanks for that thought of encouragement.” I pull my towel around my chest and rest my forehead on my knees. “I was really looking forward to that night. First time with him as my husband.” My heart thumps hard when the word tumbles out. “He unzips my wedding dress, and I rip off his tie. We’re on a California King somewhere tropical and fun.” The honeymoon had better be somewhere tropical. My Southern ass freezes here on Long Island. I constantly have to put my feet against Landon’s legs to warm them up at night.
I blow out a breath, making the line fuzz. “Kind of ruins the whole picture if you’re telling me the sex will suck.”
“I’m just saying you’ll be tired.”
“I’ve been tired before and had epic sex.” Landon was gone for a month visiting his parents, and I jumped him the second he got off the plane. It was four in the morning, I hadn’t slept all night, and he was majorly jet-lagged. Did not matter at all. We started up in the car, he had me screaming in the front seat, screaming against the door when we got home, and we made it as far as the living room couch before landing double-fudge raspberry cheesecake together.
But that was, oh hell . . . I don’t know, a year ago? Maybe more.
“Well, do whatever you did that time.” Theresa laughs, and I sort of chuckle with her, my buzzed brain skipping tracks left and right. It was epic sex because we’d been waiting for it . . . anticipating it.
“Hmm . . .”
“What?” she asks through a yawn.
I pull at the bath mat again. “Do you think . . . ?” My thoughts steal my voice as they run through my head. Sex with Landon is good. Always fun. It’s just not new. It’s . . . longtime- relationship sex. Scheduled, predictable, and usually ends with a snoring Landon and a bowl of ice cream. So how can I make sure I land a ticket to Chocolateville the day we become husband and wife? Oh my hell . . . will we even have sex on our wedding night?
Theresa clears her throat. “Do I think what?”
“You think maybe . . . we should wait?”
“Wait for what?”
“Like no sex until that night. Then it’ll be amazing because we’ll be dying for it.” It’s ridiculous. I don’t think Landon will go for it. But Theresa will tell me if I’m totally craz—
“I’ve heard of couples doing that,” she says, her tired voice picking up. “Sounds like a test in great restraint if you ask me, but also could be . . . well, fun.”
“Totally. When was the last time you guys went as far as you could without going there? I think it’s exciting. Might bring something back . . .”
I want to defend my sex life, but my mind is on the track she painted. My heart warms and thumps as a grin spreads across my face. Foreplay without sex could amp us both up so much our wedding night will be one I can guarantee we won’t forget. I have to clench my legs together just thinking about it.
It will be like new relationship sex all over again.
name Becca Ann on occasion) is the author of a few hundred—okay, maybe not that
many—books. Since writing her bestselling debut, Reasons I Fell for the
Funny Fat Friend, she has published books with Random House, Swoon
Romance, and Tulip Romance. She has a favorite of all her babies, but no, she
won’t tell you what it is (mainly because it changes depending on the day).
Along with writing, Cassie likes to binge-watch Teen Wolf and The
Big Bang Theory. She can quote Harry Potter lines quick as a whip. And she
likes kissing her hubby, but only if his facial hair is trimmed. She also likes
cheesecake to a very obsessive degree.Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads