Corinne had been married nineteen years, and tonight she was going to say it.
They sat on the edge of the bed in the soft lamplight. Tobias wore his old gray T-shirt, and she wore her silk robe. Her heart pounded like a sixteen-year-old’s. “I have something I want to ask for,” she said.
He turned toward her, all attention. “Tell me.”
“Slower,” she said, and her face burned. “I want you to go much, much slower. I want you to start at my shoulders. Take a very long time getting anywhere.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then his whole face softened. “I would love that,” he said.
She lay back. He began with her shoulders, just as she had asked. His big warm hands moved in long strokes over the silk, down her arms, and up her neck. She felt her whole body unclench, one muscle at a time.
His breath was warm on her ear. “Is this right?” he whispered.
“A little lower,” she said, and he obeyed.
His hand slid inside the robe and rested, so lightly, on her hip. She was already trembling. He kissed the inside of her wrist. He kissed the soft place behind her knee.
He took his time, and then more time. The ache between her legs grew almost unbearable. She heard herself say, in a voice she barely knew, “Now.
Right now. Then she laughed out loud, because she had planned to ask nicely.
He touched her at last, and her kitty was so wet and ready that they both gasped. He circled her button with one slow fingertip, then another. He listened to her breath, the way she had taught him. When she cried out, he did not hurry her.
He stayed right there, steady as a metronome. She shook and sobbed with joy.
“Why didn’t I ask for this years ago?” she said afterward, into his chest.
“Ask for something else tomorrow,” he murmured, and she felt him grinning.