Stitches

Absorbed in his own thoughts a world away from mine, Seb rakes his fingers through his damp hair and heads for the closet to get dressed. I want to know what’s on his mind—especially since it’s probably my shit—but Moira climbs up on the bed and steals my attention before I can ask.

“Good morning, handsome.” She’s wearing a fluffy bath robe instead of clothing this morning. I rarely see her without her hair and make-up done, but I like the intimacy of it. I lock an arm around her waist and drag her on top of me. She grins and leans in to give me a tender kiss.

“Good shower?” I murmur, playfully.

“Could you hear us?”

I nod my head at the door to the adjoining master bathroom. “Door was open. Sounded like a fun shower.”

“I’ll probably have to take another one after I go for my run,” she tells me, running her hands across my chest. “Feel free to join me.”

Between her invitation and the sensation of her soft fingers against my skin, my head is suddenly flooded with images of fucking her in the shower, and my cock with a vehement desire to be buried deep inside her.

“I will accept that invite,” I tell her. “Provided I’m still here by then.”

Seb steps out of the closet, buttoning up his dress shirt. Apparently he caught the tail end of that comment, because he says, “Today’s your day off, isn’t it?”

I glance at him as Moira climbs off me and goes over to help him with his tie. He certainly doesn’t need help with it, but I get the impression it’s part of their routine.

“It was supposed to be,” I remark. “Since I flaked yesterday though, I figured I should probably work today.”

Shaking his head, Seb meets my gaze. “Nah, you need a day off. Take it. Stay here with Moira. Relax. If you need to get any work done, just do it from here. I have a late meeting tonight anyway so I won’t be home for dinner.”

Apparently this is the first Moira is hearing about it. “You won’t?”

His attention shifts to her as she smoothes her hand down his shirtfront, over the perfect line of his tie. “You two are on your own. Modified date night,” he offers, lightly.

“I can work with that,” Moira says, nodding.

Since I’m planning to shower with Moira after her run, I just pull on a pair of sweats to go down for breakfast. Seb takes a seat and starts reading his paper while Moira makes the coffee.

“What can I do?” I ask Moira, leaning against the counter and watching her fiddle around at the coffee maker.

Flicking a surprised glance at me, she tells me, “You can cut the grapefruit in half, if you’d like.”

I make a face at her since she knows I hate grapefruit. “You’re not gonna make me eat it, are you?” I ask, reaching for the cutting board.

“No, I’ll be nice to you. Though the health benefits—”

“I’m okay with dying a few weeks early if it means I never have to eat a grapefruit,” I assure her.

Moira shakes her head at me. “Your priorities are all out of order. It doesn’t taste that bad.”

“It’s gross,” I inform her, grabbing the fruit and slicing it in half.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly, retrieving the halves and putting them on small plates. She drops one off on her end of the table and takes the other to Seb. He pauses in reading the paper for a kiss and a thank you, then she comes back to start on the rest of breakfast.

“What else?” I ask.

“I’m just making eggs, I don’t really need help. You can get out the butter and jelly for the toast, if you’d like.” Glancing back at the table, she tells Seb, “See? He helps me cook and everything.”

Without looking up from his paper, Seb remarks, “Why do you think I got you a second husband? You’re welcome.”

“I can do dishes, too,” I volunteer.

“And laundry?” Moira asks, with exaggerated gusto. “Best second husband ever.”

“Knock yourself out,” Seb tells me, but he can’t help smirking. “You know you don’t have to work so hard to impress her, right? She’s already yours.”