If they were still together when the holidays rolled around, then it would be an important discussion. Now it would just be like putting a ticking time bomb out ahead of them, ready to blow their fragile relationship apart at its mere mention.
But would there be a better time, she thought, looking through the layouts of another apartment complex. Maybe.
About six that evening, the doorbell rang and Lucy found Oliver standing in the foyer with sacks of takeout in his hands.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. “I was just getting dressed to come over to your place.”
“I thought we could use a change of scenery,” he said, stepping past her into the apartment. “I’ve also always wanted to eat in the formal dining room.”
Lucy followed him curiously. “That’s fine by me. What’s so great about the dining room?”
Oliver set the bags down on the table, revealing some Italian dishes from a place close to his office. “When we were kids, we weren’t allowed to eat in the formal dining room because we might spill on the priceless Moroccan rug. We had to eat in the kitchen where there was tile. When I was an adult, we didn’t come over any longer, so I’ve never gotten to eat in here.”
Lucy laughed. She’d honestly never eaten in this room either, but it was more out of convenience than anything else. When it was just Alice and her, it was easier to eat in the kitchen or to take a dish into her room and eat in bed by herself. “It’s a first for us both then.”
They settled at the table, eyeing the cream silk tablecloth, the infamous Moroccan rug and the large containers of pasta with red and white sauces sitting in front of them.
“Let’s eat in the kitchen,” they both said in unison, getting up and carrying everything out of the intimidating space as they laughed together.
When they were finished, Oliver grabbed the small container of tiramisu and two forks, and took Lucy’s hand to lure her into the bedroom. “It’s time for dessert,” he said.
Lucy groaned as she followed him into her bedroom. She had eaten so much. She loved tiramisu, but she wasn’t sure if she could stomach another bite of food. “I’m not sure I’m ready for dessert yet.”
Oliver looked over his shoulder and gave her a coy wink. “That’s okay. I think some physical activity first might make some room for more.”
“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?” she teased.
Oliver entered her room and set the container on the nightstand. Lucy came up behind him and ran her hands over his broad shoulders. She loved seeing him in his suits every day after work. She loved the contrast of the soft, expensive fabrics draped over the hard steel of his body.
He shrugged out of the jacket, letting it fall into her hands. She draped it over the nearby chair and they continued their familiar dance of undressing. It had felt strange at first to expose herself so easily to someone, and now her fingers couldn’t move fast enough for her bare skin to touch his.
Oliver flung back her comforter and they crawled into bed together. He immediately pulled her body against his and captured her mouth in a kiss. It was amazing how quickly this had become like coming home to Lucy. It didn’t matter where they were, being in his arms was what was important. The rest of the world and its problems just melted away and all that mattered was the two of them.
“I think I might eat some of the tiramisu now,” he murmured against her lips, “if you don’t mind.”
Lucy did mind. They were in the middle of something and he wanted to stop and eat. But she kept her mouth shut and was rewarded for her patience.
He grabbed the container from the bedside table and carried it with him as he positioned himself between her thighs. Oliver kissed the inside of each knee before opening the container and filling the room with the scent of chocolate and espresso. He swiped his index finger through the cream on top and painted each of her nipples with it. Swirling more across her belly, he stopped at the satin edge of her neatly trimmed curls.
Oliver set the box aside and smiled widely at her as he prepared to enjoy his dessert. He licked a leisurely trail across her belly, circling her navel and climbing higher. Lucy squirmed with a mix of need and impatience, clutching at the sheets as he teased her. Finally reaching her breasts, his tongue teased at one tight nipple and then the next, sucking in the mocha-dusted mascarpone and swirling it around her skin with his tongue.
Lucy had never been someone’s dessert course before and she found she quite liked it. The only downside to this arrangement was that she didn’t have any for herself. When he picked up the box for more, she caught his wrist to stop him. “I want some, too,” she requested sweetly and reached for it.