Love Me Like That

By: Marie James

“You good?” Trent asks with a knowing smirk as he backs away from me in the shower.

I grin at him and nod my head. “One of these days I’m going to demand more than just a shower quickie in the morning.”

He chuckles and leans in, kissing my lips softly and running a loving finger down my cheek. “I know I’ve been super busy, Kitten.” He kisses my neck, nipping at the skin, even under the stream of hot water the action shoots chills up my spine. “Until we get fully staffed, I need to be at the bar. Believe me; I’d rather be here in the morning with you than there taking beer deliveries.”

His fingers skate delicately over my nipple, and I groan when he pulls his hand away and stands to his full height. Even with as long as we’ve been together a delicate touch still makes me want to beg for the next caress.

He steps out of the shower and grabs a towel from the rack. “What time should I expect you?” He asks as he scrubs the drops of water from his almost scalp length, ice-blond hair.

I work at the bar with him most evenings. I’ve been an employee of his for the last three months. He, along with my best friend Keira, convinced me my ‘day job’ as they called it, was interfering with their time with me. I’d already been working part time there on the weekends so that I could see them more.

I shrug. “My shift starts at four, but I’ll probably be in a little early,” I tell him as I stand up from the tiled bench on shaky, post-orgasmic legs.

I swipe the steam from the inside of the shower stall and watch him, completely in love with every inch of his body as he towel dries his lanky frame. He’s not a cut, ripped hunk; he’s more like a gangly beanpole with long, lean muscles. He’s incredibly tall, but his build isn’t imposing, one of the things that played a huge part in our relationship in the beginning. He eats like a horse and never works out, so I don’t know how he stays so thin. I joke with him all the time that the fast food he consumes at an alarming rate is going to catch up with him, but he’s thirty-two now and he’s just as skinny as he was when we started dating six years ago.

I turn the water off and step out of the shower, reaching for a thick, fluffy towel. I hold it to my nose and inhale the clean smell of our laundry detergent.

“Not washing your hair today?” He asks with a joking look of disgust on his face.

I pull the towel from my face and narrow my eyes sarcastically. “I’m hitting the gym first. I’ll wash it when I’m done.” I inform him.

Unlike him, I have to work out…often. I run at least five times a week but no matter the number of miles, the speed, or how often I hit the track my ass never shrinks. At least my chest is proportional. I’m fit and healthy. It’s the mantra I force myself to repeat when any of my body issue conceptions begin to rear their ugly heads.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, Kitten. I promise you more than a quick fuck in the shower.” He kisses the top of my head, leaving the bathroom so he can get dressed and head to work.

“I’m holding you to that!” I shout after him, the smile never leaving my face.

By the time I make it out of the bedroom fully dressed, Trent is gone. He’s been working from around ten in the morning until the bar shuts down at two in the morning, and then he oversees the cleanup. He’s only averaging about five to six hours of sleep each night; then it’s the same thing the next day.

I know it’s not healthy for him to live this way. More than once I’ve tried to talk with him about enlisting a staffing company to find qualified people to help manage the bar. He’s waved me off more than once, saying that this bar is our future, and he’s not comfortable having another company do something he’s capable of doing himself.

He opens Holder’s later on Sunday and Monday, but every day he’s there to unlock the door at opening and relock the door at closing. At least, he has for the last six months.

Staffing has been rough for the better part of a year. Bar staff is excellent but finding, and keeping, proper management has been a huge burden. I think he’s given up, having grown tired of people getting trained then leaving to work at the bars in the bigger cities, now with a better resume.

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