The Best Medicine by Dellani Oakes – Part 12

Morgan and Tanya make love, delighting in one another.

"Have you...." he started to speak, but paused as he groped for the right question. "Has it ever been that good for you before? I don't mean to sound vain...." His voice dropped away lamely as he realized how that sounded.

"Honestly? I didn't know it could be like that! Never—never ever!"

"Not just me being conceited?" He nuzzled her neck, nibbling on her ear.

"No, not at all. I don't even have words to tell you how I feel."

"Honored," he said quietly, kissing her cheek. "Deeply honored that you shared this with me." He smiled down at her.

"Odd choice of words." Her expression was one of puzzlement as she gazed up at him.

"I'm awed by the experience. I feel a thousand feet tall, and small as a mouse all at once. Don't question," he said quickly, placing his finger on her lips. "Never question a compliment."

They finished bathing and dried off in silence. Tanya found a comfortable nightshirt and a clean pair of panties. She offered a pair of plaid pajama pants to Morgan, but he refused.

"I don't suppose you've got a spare set of boxers in one of those drawers, do you?"

"Actually, I might. I used to borrow Cliff's from time to time to lounge around in. He had a pair that I gave him, he didn't like. So I used them to sleep in."

She tried to keep the wounded sound out of her voice. She had spent a lot of time picking out the boxers for her ex-husband. She thought they would be a fun, intimate gift for their first Christmas together, but he'd scorned the gift completely, telling her it was tacky. She hoped Morgan wouldn't mind, but sensed somehow that he would appreciate them, as Cliff had not.

"Here we go!" She lifted them triumphantly from her bottom drawer. "He never wore them."

The boxers were black silk with red lammé flames on them. Around the waistband they said, Hot Stuff in red, flaming letters.

Morgan took them from her with a speculative stare. "You gave these to your husband?"

She nodded, feeling shy and foolish. Morgan chuckled, then laughed out loud.

"They're awesome!" He slipped them over his hips where they rode low on his abdomen showing off his delineated physique. He kissed her playfully.

"I'm glad you like the boxers, Morgan."

He cuddled up behind her. "I'm glad you like the sex, Tanya." He nibbled her ear and put his arm around her.

Tanya slept soundly, not waking until the sunlight filtered through the yellow chintz curtains of her bedroom. Yawning and stretching, she remembered last night and rolled over with a smile, but Morgan wasn't there. She thought he'd stay all night and he'd left! She felt dirty and started to tear up when she heard someone singing downstairs. Throwing on a pair of pajama pants and slippers, she raced down the stairs to the kitchen. Slowing her pace before she hit the door, she tried to gather her shattered dignity around her like a sheer veil. She walked into the kitchen and found Morgan standing by the stove with a pair of potholders in his hands. The coffee was brewing as the timer on the stove buzzed.

"Hi there, beautiful! You're just in time, I was about to wake you. Of course, if I woke you the way I wanted to, we'd have missed breakfast, so this is probably better." He bent down and opened the oven door.

Tanya admired the view as the silk boxers clung to what could only be described as a superbly sculpted rear end. He was more muscular than she thought, and his thighs rippled as he moved. Trying not to drool, she realized he was talking to her with his face still in the oven.

"You're out of milk and eggs. I used the last up to make breakfast."

"I'll add it to my list. I have to get groceries today."

He chuckled. "I noticed. You wouldn't believe what a horrible time I had figuring out what to fix! Oh, and you had some ancient yogurt in the back of the fridge. I tossed it, it was growing something scary."

"Oh no! You threw out Ralph! I was growing him as a pet—or a science experiment."

He looked up, grinning. "Sorry, babe, you'll have to pet me instead. I don't like fuzzy competition."

"Good thing I don't have a cat," she quipped.

Chuckling, he took the muffin tin from the oven, inverted it on a towel on the counter, turned off the oven and shut the door with his foot. He picked up the muffins, dipped them in melted butter, then cinnamon sugar and placed them on a plate. Blowing on his fingers, he set the plate in front of her with a flourish and poured her coffee. As she added sugar and half and half, he served himself and sat beside her at the table.

"French Puffs!" She smiled happily. "I love these! My Gran used to make them."

"It's her recipe," he told her proudly. "I found it when I was looking for the flour." He held up the card in a zipper bag.

Tanya recognized her grandmother's spidery, delicate handwriting and felt herself tearing up. "She made them for me as far back as I can remember. I've been looking all over for this recipe. Where was it?"

Morgan gestured toward the built in pantry. "In there. It had fallen down behind the shelves and it was stuck in the trim at the bottom."

© 2020 Dellani Oakes

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