Worth it

Chapter 2

As he stepped in through the door, a familiar smell wafted up his nose. A grin subconsciously spread across his face. He threw his leather bag and jacket onto the couch and snuck towards the kitchen. The smell was growing stronger and evoking a reaction from his stomach. It groaned, desiring to put whatever was making the smell inside of itself. He paused at the entrance to the kitchen and refrained from chuckling. His wife stood in front of the stove tending to a bubbling pot. Various dishes lay complete on the counter. He walked up to his wife and wrapped his hands around her slender waist.

"Oh! Dexter!" she exclaimed upon seeing who it was. He kissed her cheek. "What are you doing?" "Cooking, obviously." "You could be making poison," he countered. "Well I'm not." "Let me make sure." She looked at him incredulously. "Are you mad?" "Very much so." "Brits." Nevertheless, she served her husband a spoonful of the stew she was cooking. He moaned in delight. "Not poison," he managed to say. She pushed out her chest in triumph. "Didn't think so." "Well, carry on." He left his wife to her devices. She started to stir the stew then stopped. "Wait...! DEXTER!" "Oui?" The voice came from upstairs. "You devious bastard! You lied to me!" "Truth hurts love. But the stew is wonderful." She stomped her foot then stormed off to her unfinished cuisine. 

Dexter peeked out of the bathroom and chuckled. Hopefully he hasn't made her decide to poison some of the food. Well if so he wasn't gonna die dirty. Might as well freshen up.

At long last dinner was ready. The lights had been turned off and candles adorned the table. His wife came out balancing the meals on a tray. She named every dish she served, not that Dexter paid attention. His stomach was crying for food and he won't keep it waiting. "Enjoy your dinner dearest," she said while bowing. He pounced on his food as soon as she left.

***

He reclined against the chair with a full stomach. Slender hands rested on his shoulders. "You spoil me too much," he remarked. She laughed, a breathy sound. "Indeed I do. But how else can I help my hardworking husband who exposes himself to various abuses everyday for me?" A tender kiss was planted on his cheek but he barely felt it. That's it! That's why he puts up with his job! That's why he hasn't quit! He does it for her.

He grabbed her face and smushed their lips together. His wife mumbled in confusion at his actions. Then he pulled away. "I love you." Her eyes widened. "I don't think I've heard those words in a long time," she admitted. "You need to hear it more." He stood to his feet and picked up his wife. "Whoa!" she exclaimed. He bounded up the stairs, flung open the door and tossed her onto their bed. "What's gotten into you?" she demanded. He whipped his checkered shirt off his body, revealing his lean muscles. "A falling apple has hit my head." He crawled onto the bed and towards his wife. "And I realized I'm an idiot." This time the kiss was gentler. She gasped at the action but got into it. His hands slide up her thighs, enticing a soft moan. He teased her underwear before pulling away. They broke the kiss and looked into each other's eyes. "You turned me into one," he whispered. Her eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry." "Don't be." They started to kiss again.