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I stood up, kissed her, long and slow, with my hand on the back of her neck. “Have fun,” I whispered. “Tell me everything.”
“Cal…”
“I mean it.”
I nodded at Ross, who looked like a man who’d been handed a winning lottery ticket and a live grenade at the same time, and I went upstairs.
I sat on the edge of our bed in the dark.
For the first five minutes I heard nothing but the music, low through the floor. Then laughter. Hers, then his. Then a long silence.
Silence is worse than noise. I discovered that very quickly. In silence your brain fills in everything. Her mouth on his. His hands untying that dress. My best friend’s fingers on the skin I’ve been touching for nine years.
My heart was pounding. My cock was rock hard and I hadn’t even touched it.
Then I heard her moan. Soft, muffled, but definitely her. I know that sound. I’ve been making her make that sound for nine years.
I stood up. I sat back down. I stood up again.
The stairs are right outside our bedroom door. Twelve steps down, and the living room door has a glass panel in it. I could see everything from the bottom step without them knowing.
Or I could stay put. Respect the deal. Let her have this one, the way I’d promised, and wait for her to come up and tell me.
Another moan. Louder this time.