I feel like I'm live-blogging the romance of the century here, some days.
Last night brought me a delivery of a dozen baby-pink roses, and a plea elicited from Jacob that I would feed the kids but not eat and he would bring home Pad Thai later on. He knows the way to my heart. I have a thing for it. I have a little squeal of delight whenever he offers it. Pad Thai! Pad Thai! Pad Thai! I only had to promise him a late night lapdance.
Oh, please, preacher boy, you can have one of those anytime your big heart desires, my head said. My mouth played coy.
I promise, Jake.
Good, I've got a little present for you to wear.
The present turned out to be a very incredibly cute pink bra and panties set with white embroidery that I was loathe to let him take off me because they were so very pretty.
But Jacob gets what he wants, always. And to tell you the truth, by the time they were off I had forgotten all about everything, save for his hands on me.
I have no idea what today will bring. It's his day off and right now he's walking around in his longjohns again, flexing his muscles and talking about making pancakes. He's a clown today. He keeps interrupting me with kisses that have reduced me to mush. Bridget the marshmallow. Aw. S'more, please, honey. Snort. He could cover me in chocolate and I would never complain.
What he doesn't know is that since today is his day off I'm sending him for an hour-long massage this afternoon. He had one while we were in Whistler and loved it. I know he'll be surprised. I love to spoil him rotten, for he has earned it living with me.
