Mommy's Little Secret

Chapter 3: Laundry List

That evening I was out in the garage doing laundry when my mind wandered to the realm of the romantic once again. Suddenly there he was behind me, burying his face in my neck and sending shivers down my spine all the way to my toes.

I wiggled away, laughing, and glanced toward the house to make sure no one was watching. He lifted himself up onto the workbench next to the washer and sat watching me as I pulled the fresh clothes out of the dryer.

"You're amazing," he said, in that deep, rich voice that made my stomach do somersaults. I swear I could feel his voice with my entire body.

"Amazing, eh?" I replied. The word didn't exactly seem like a good fit as I leaned over the dryer, dripping with sweat, my hair a disaster and clothes very around-the-house-y.

"Just look at you, working so hard to care for your loved ones... and the way your hair falls around your face...."

This seemed laughable to me. Charlie hates the way my hair falls out of my bun when I wear my hair up. While very appreciative when I do put forth the extra effort, he's definitely into a more groomed look than what I manage to whip up most days.

I wiped the sweat from my upper lip. Definitely not sexy. "You don't think it's just frizzy and messy, with all these fly-aways?"

"To the contrary," he replied, lowering his tall frame to the ground and taking a step closer to me. "It's maternal," (the way he said the word made it sound almost exotic) "yet sexy."

I felt my heart skip a beat.

"Like we've just had a romp in the hay loft," he finished. By then his lips had reached the side of my neck and I felt myself melting. 

As much as I wanted to give in completely to the fantasy and just enjoy the ride, I also definitely did NOT want my husband or children to find me in that state.

So I straightened up and took a deep breath, pulling away from him.

"Look," I began, and cleared my throat. "We've got to establish some ground rules for our little... friendship."

"So that's all this is to you?" He looked like a wounded St. Bernard, but still smouldering and somehow confident.

I placed my hand lovingly on his cheek and smiled. "You know what I mean. I just have a couple of requests," I said.

He removed my hand from his cheek and kissed my palm slowly. Hell-o.

"Your wish is my command, Your Grace," he bowed low, and stayed down on one knee to hear me out. I loved it.

"Okay. #1: No whisking me away while I'm driving. Especially with my kids in the car. It isn't safe."

"Done," he agreed.

"Thank you. And #2: Nothing overtly sexual."

He once again looked hurt, as if I'd offended his gentlemanly sensibilities with the mere suggestion, but the hint of a boyish grin also indicated that he knew exactly what I was talking about and was definitely guilty as charged.

Before he could respond, I added, "My life—my marriage—is complicated enough already, and my sex drive is... a long story."

His solemn yet playful nod communicated that he understood perfectly and was confident that not only would I change my mind eventually, but that he would also thoroughly enjoy helping me out with that when the time came.

"Very well," he said as he took my hand once again in his. "As you wish. However..." he added, "I do have my own counter-requests."

I had no idea what these could be, but he looked so cute down on his knee that I was certainly ready to hear him out. "Let's hear it."

"You agree to treat yourself like the royal goddess you truly are..." he paused to press his warm lips to the back of my hand, and I once again felt my insides melt. "And," he continued, looking up into my eyes, "you permit me to instruct you as to what exactly that entails."