He was a heavy weight on her heart. His sweaty chest pressed against hers, pushing her into the mattress below.
She was trapped.
She rubbed her hands up and down his back, willing him to roll over.
He should know by now. She didn’t like him crowding her. She needed her space afterwards. She needed room to breath.
He sighed and rolled onto his back.
She missed his heat.
Was she really ready to let that go?
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“Come back.” She commanded to the ceiling.
He rolled back into her, pressing kisses along her neck. She closed her eyes and let herself melt into the touch.
This – this was fine.
He cared about her, more than she cared about him, but the love was still there.
Her thumb rubbed against her ring finger; a nervous habit she had for years, but now it glided along her new engagement ring.
She wasn’t nervous about being a bride. She’d been waiting for it for years! She planned on getting married at 25. It’s not her fault that he didn’t show up until 27.
She looked down at him snuggling against her neck.
He’d be fine right? He could be the one?
“Mmmh,” he hummed, “How was it?”
She could be happy.
She could have someone who loved her. Someone who was passionate. Someone who showed her respect. Someone who didn’t ask too many questions when her eyes wandered.
Someone who was perfect (just not for her).
She could have love. She could have a husband.
She met his eyes for the first time that night and smirked.