You Hold Off On Going To Work

You decide to hold off on getting ready for work. Instead you sit up against the headboard and watch Natasha move around the bedroom. She is short, curvy, a little soft through the middle in a way that used to make your hands itch to grab her. Brunette hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders as she pulls on a robe that does nothing to hide the full shape of her hips and breasts. You clear your throat and try for something light.

“Come back to bed for a minute,” you say. “I can be gentle. We do not even have to go all the way.”

Natasha glances over her shoulder, already tying the robe tighter. “I told you I am sore. And tired. Just leave it alone.”

You keep your voice easy, almost playful. “You look good this morning. That robe is doing criminal things to those curves. One kiss. That is all I am asking.”

She turns fully, expression closed. “I am not in the mood. Stop pushing. Just get up and go to work. I have things to do.”

The rejection lands the same way it always does. You swing your legs out of bed, the heavy ache still there, and start getting undressed for a shower while Natasha leaves the room without another word, and not even a backwards glance.