I shriek and jump as an animated player in Chelsea jersey kicks the ball into my goalpost for the third time since we started playing. My gamepad clatters to the rugged floor, Brandon bursts out laughing and I growl. I let out a silent scream, this is not funny.

The last-minute decision to challenge him to a game now seems like a terrible idea, I suck my lip and refuse to collect the pad he hands to me. Most of the wall in front of us are covered in screens to allow him to switch to a different game without missing any moment. He claims he hasn’t visited his game room in weeks, work has kept him busy and I suggested we took advantage of his free day. I frown, I don’t want to do his bidding for the whole day, I want him to do mine, I have lots of questions that need answers.

Letting out a low hiss, I snatch the pad from him, my ears burning from the sound of his mocking laughter. What happened to ladies first? The loser must attend to the winner’s needs for the rest of today and I can’t be the loser. I have to win, by all means necessary.

As a new idea begins to take form in my head, my eyes wander to the time on the main screen which shows we have less than two minutes until the end of this match. I flash him a smile at my ingenuity and with my gaze set straight, I cancel the ongoing game.

The overhead lights come on immediately, the groans sounding from beside me has my hand covering my mouth to prevent me from laughing out loud. I spare him a glance and giggle, the faint, pink colour staining his cheeks almost has me reaching out to pinch them. Brandon hides his face in his palms and lets out a frustrated groan, my lips pull into a grim line and I look away but I am far from contrite, he is not winning this time.

“Elna Stark.”

“Yes, baby?” I reply with the innocence of a child while batting my eyelashes at him.

“Why did you end the game?” he asks, his hand pointed to the screen. “Why?”

Waiting for him to look my way, my fingers grip the hem of my T-Shirt, I murmur, “I don’t know what you are talking about, I didn’t do anything.” He lets out a sigh, I smile. “You can declare me the winner.” The suggestion is ludicrous in every sense since he is leading by three goals, I pull off my shirt and add, “Just declare me the winner.”

Brandon’s eyes dart to mine, most likely to give me a piece of his mind but his words evaporate when he sees me in only my bra and jean shorts that expose my buttcheeks. “What are you doing?” he asks. He groans when I bite my index finger and wink, a hand runs through his hair, letting some strands fall over his face. “That is against the rule.”

“There are no rules,” I reply, loving the way his eyes linger on my breasts which bounce when I shake them. I hook a finger behind me and unclasp my bra without taking it off. His eyes narrow, I smirk at how affected he is by me. I lean forward to give him a better view of my breasts, my voice lowers to a whisper, “You like what you see, baby?”

Clarissa will be proud of me when I let her know how I tried to seduce my husband. I am not the bedroom shy girl she knew a couple of months ago, I am not a virgin. There is a fluttering in my stomach, I giggle, more excited than I should be at that thought.

The game’s theme song changes, the lights go off and Brandon grunts. “Let’s finish our game.” As he says this, he cast another look at my chest which is illuminated by the rays of the television, I straighten up and pretend not to notice. “God, El. Put on your shirt.”

“No. If you don’t like what you see, stop looking.” Picking my pad, I restart the game, hoping my chest is enough distraction. I need to know what he is hiding in that room.

Our match resumes, we continue with the same team, this time, I am in the lead, I don’t miss any chance I get. A corner of my lips twitches when I score an additional two goals, it is a few minutes to the end of the first half, if I keep up with this, I will win this match.

Brandon’s unusual silence has me casting a careful glance at him, guilt tries to surface but I shove it down. He forced me into doing this, he should have given sensible answers to my questions rather than attempt to make me feel stupid. I frown. He even made me confess my feelings to him, then acted like nothing big happened. Looking back at the screen, I let out a string of curse words. He just scored. Fucking hell.

My annoyance barely dissipates when he scores again. I blink twice, refusing to believe the tiny numbers at the top left corner of the screen. He has equalised. Clenching my pad in a fierce grip, I direct all my anger to the Arsenal players on the field, countering Brandon’s attack to the best of my ability. I hiss. He deceived me, claimed to be a rookie.

“Come,” he says and my head raises slowly as if processing his words. I squint as all the lights come on, bite the insides of my lip and frown, I am reluctant to show my face after losing. My fingers move behind me to clasp my bra, I let out a sigh. I cheated and still got thrashed. Sadness seeps into my heart, no answers for me today or anytime soon.

“No, leave the shirt,” Brandon says before I can pull the shirt over my head and I let it fall to the ground. He pats his legs, a wide grin directed at me. “Come.”

Staring at the maroon rug as I go to sit on his legs, a yelp escapes me as his arms around my waist pull me closer to his chest. I hit his arm playfully when he inserts his fingers into my waistband, he rewards me with a chuckle and a wink and I go back to frowning.

“Cheer up, you did good,” he murmurs.
I shake my head, I didn’t do good if he was able to win by a difference of four goals and I was the first one to score. “You thrashed me.” I pout. “You lied, you are not an amateur.”

He shrugs, his shoulders tremble with laughter. “Doesn’t matter,” I scowl, it did to me, “who taught you how to play?” He twirls a strand of my hair, I place my hands on his chest and refuse to look up. “El?” My eyes lift to his. “Who taught you how to play?”

“No one.”

“No one?”

The intensity of his gaze keeps me captive, I find myself nodding. He arches a brow, I swallow. “No one?” he reiterates and my head bobs. “Then why aren’t you blinking?”

A nervous laugh escapes me, I tuck my head into the crook of his neck and giggle when the sound of his laughter echoes in the near-empty room. I let out a deep breath, he lowers his hand to the small of my back, I shiver and lift my eyes to scan his face.

“Who?” he persists and I bite the inside of my lips.

“I don’t want you to get mad,” I pause when he shakes his head as if to reassure me and my lips curl into a small smile. “Okay. Joshua, Josh taught me how to play.”

The room grows silent, I rub my palm up and down my arm to keep the increasing cold at bay while awaiting his reply. His facial expression gives nothing away, a corner of my lips twitches, I peck him on his nose and ruffle his hair until he stops me.

“Are you two still meeting up?” Brandon finally asks and I return to my former position of tucking my head into the crook of his neck, afraid to see his expression when I reply.

“Yeah.” My voice is muffled. “We will meet inside the school, people will be there. I’ll not cheat on you,” I say and raise my head to face him, “I promise. Sophia was a one-time thing, spur of the moment, nothing like that will ever happen again.” His quietness tugs at my heart, I am forced to palm his cheeks and add, “Brandon, say you believe me, please.”

“Okay.” His arm circles my waist, my shoulders sag when he unhooks my bra. He weaves his fingers into my hair, I moan when he starts massaging my scalp. “I believe you.”

Warmth cocoons me in its embrace, my lips curl into a smile and I stare at his chest, his words lift the chips off my shoulders, I snuggle in his embrace, content and at peace.

“Thank you.” My hands spring out to cover my breasts when he unhooks my bra, he chuckles and nuzzles my neck. I purr, my hands lower and I ask, “What do I have to do?”

It doesn’t take him long to figure out I am referring to his winning the match. “Nothing, I enjoyed the game,” he murmurs, my face lights up in a smile and I nod. The circling of my nipple causes me to suck in a sharp breath. “Does it still hurt?” His fingers hover above my areola, my head moves from side to side and he caresses it. “I love them.”

“I love you,” I murmur under my breath, low enough for no one else to hear and sigh at how easy it is for him to talk about his love for my breasts or other parts of my body. I wish it was me, his feelings or our future he talked about with a glint in his eyes.

Brandon hooks a finger under my jaw, I sigh and look away to avoid him cajoling me into repeating what I said. I know he will never confess his feelings for me even though his actions say otherwise and I am determined to hear those three words from him but not today. On the day he professes his love for me, he has to do it willingly.

His finger trails the curve of my lips, my heart pounds behind my ribcage at the contact. My lips part open, waiting, we agreed there will be no sex until my body heals, I don’t know how long that will take but I am curious to see where this evening will take us.

A ping pulls me from my reverie, the screen of Brandon’s phone which is on the stool between our seats lights up. He pays no heed to it, his mouth closes over one of my nipples and my head falls back as moans slip past my lips. A soft sigh escapes me as his other hand locates my second breast, he fondles it with care and my heart swells at the thought of him being gentle because I complained earlier about them being sore.

Grunting in displeasure when Brandon lets go of my nipple with a loud pop, I push his head down, he grabs my wrists and chuckles. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. He flashes me a grin which has my frown turning upside down, I sigh, this man has the keys to my heart. I pout and he pecks my lips, making sure to withdraw before I can deepen our kiss.

His phone rings before I can complain, my eyes dart between the screen and his face when he makes no move to retrieve it. His ringtone barely lasts a second so there is no way I can identify the caller. But I am not bothered by that, it’s his composure that gives me a reason to worry, he acts like he never heard the phone ring or ping the first time.

“Your phone,” I say with a small laugh, “someone called... I think.”

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, I blink twice and look away, I love it when he does that. “What do you think about electric, self-driving cars?”

My mind goes blank for a moment, images of cars flash through my mind but nothing about electric cars. I clear my throat to say, “I’m not sure I know how electric cars work but I like the idea of self-driving cars. It will give everyone the chance to drive.”

“Exactly. Yes, you get it.” The excitement in his voice has me smiling, I nod and he goes on to explain, “Electric cars are like your normal cars but instead of fuel tanks, they will have batteries.” I raise my eyebrows in shock and it earns me a small laugh. “There will be electric power sources scattered around town just like fuel stations but they charge the cars instead. It’s also environmental friendly since they produce no direct exhaust.”

“That’s brilliant,” I say when he is done with his explanation and place a quick kiss on his cheeks to wipe off that gloomy look on his face. Some of his excitement seeps into me as I fully process his words, I clap and shout, “That’s awesome, baby.”

He nods with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “You think?”

That emotion is unlike him, I palm his face and nod with more enthusiasm like it is my idea to begin with. “Yes, it’s awesome. I promise.” I imitate an explosion sound and we both laugh. “Perfect. It’s brilliant, I love the idea. You will be helping a lot of people and you have my full support if you decide to go through with the production. But…”

“But?” I sense the unease in his voice and I giggle, I love all versions of him.

“It has to be affordable.” He chuckles, I tug on his beards. “Baby, I’m serious.”

Silence descends over us but it’s the comfortable kind that allows us to connect without speaking. We stare into each other’s eyes until I grow shy, his hand moves to the nape of my neck to stop me from turning away and I smile without breaking eye contact.

“I know. It will be affordable,” he whispers and I smile. “Thank you.” I want to ask what he’s thanking me for when his phone’s ringtone cuts through the air. My nostrils flare, I glare in annoyance at the caller, a name that shows its from his workplace. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, but you should pick,” I offer when it rings two more times and he ignores it.

“If I pick, I will be forced to leave you, I don’t want to leave you,” he murmurs with his fingers making their way into my scalp. My eyelids flutter close. “Today is for us.”

“What if it’s an emergency?” I ask and he shrugs. I sense the conflict properly masked behind his cool exterior and sigh. I love him, I love us spending time together even more but I don’t want his company’s need forgotten because of me, I am always here.

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies with his hands hanging lazily around my waist.

The corners of my lips twitch, I love open, vulnerable Brandon. I tug on his beards hard enough for him to wince and when he does, I giggle and stick my tongue out.

“You are not leaving me,” I say and chuckle, “I won’t even let you do that.” We both grin. “You are just going to work and I’ll try to be fine until you return.” Palming his face, I continue, “Don’t come home late and don’t let anyone ruin your mood, okay?”

His lips pucker and I don’t resist the temptation to kiss him. “Okay, I won’t be late.”

Placing one last kiss on his forehead which trails down to his nose, I allow him to carry me to our room where he swiftly changes into a more cooperate attire and leaves the house. With a heavy heart, I cast a look around our bedroom seconds after his departure and the butterflies in my belly slowly rise from their nap. The scent of his perfume lingers in the air, I hug myself and pretend his arms are around me. I already miss him.

My eyes fall on the shirt he discarded in a hurry, knowing how organised Brandon is, he must have forgotten to put it in its place. I shuffle to pick the shirt and sniff it. His smell hits my nose, I sniff it again and put it on, letting his scent surround me.

Boredom comes knocking, I retrieve my phone to dial Clarissa. It’s no surprise that she doesn’t pick and I am forced to call Joshua instead. We exchange pleasantries for a short while, he must have caught on to my lack of enthusiasm to speak to him because our call ends soon after. But I already have what I need, Clarissa’s schedule for the weekend.

Popping two of the pills from the bottle of supplement into my mouth as I saunter out of our bedroom, I giggle at the thought of what Brandon would have said if he saw me. He gave me this bottle after eliciting a promise to only take a pill daily. Guilt trickles down my spine at the thought of me breaking my promise to my husband by doing otherwise but I am quick to remind myself that I am making up for the dose I missed yesterday.

The first place I visit is the giant library that has my jaw dropping in awe again, the rows and shelves of books have me feeling like I took a trip down memory lane. I skip to the business section, smiling at the wide range of first edition books tucked on the shelf. He has everything and more. My fingertips brush the edges of the books as I circle the shelves, exploring with my eyes and soon enough, I find myself in the engineering section.

I chuckle, I don’t share Brandon’s excitement in science and if Ma was here, she would have called it fate. The first book I pull out is less than two hundred pages, a beginner’s guide on everything cars, I grin, yeah, this is fate. I saunter to the single sofa beside the fireplace, flipping the pages without understanding the terms until a yawn escapes me.

An inspection of the time on my phone has me frowning, it is past six. His phone rings uninterruptedly when I call, my frown deepens into a scowl at the sight of his name. We will be late for our surprise dinner date at eight, the one that will be fully paid for with my black card. I giggle, I didn’t realise how hard it was to make a reservation until today.

A text comes in when I’m about to redial his number and a small smile crawls up my lips. It’s not only the content that has me smiling, it’s the love emoji he added beside Dear wife. I love it when he addresses me as that, it’s better than him calling me baby.

Striking different poses, I take numerous selfies, delete some and pick out the best three to send to him. I miss you is the caption I add and I get a quick reply from him saying he misses me even more with a promise to be back home in a few minutes.

As the minutes go by, the pictures I send become more daring. One of them shows my nipples and when I receive a one-line message from Brandon saying only: Fuck, I know I am on the right track. In the next picture I send to him, I am topless with my fingers barely covering my nipples, the caption is simple: Come home to me, baby.