At First Sight - Nicholas Sparks [76]
Still, there were some things that took getting used to. For example, now that theirs was a permanent arrangement, Jeremy wasn’t sure how much cuddling he was expected to do. While Lexie seemed content to cuddle constantly, Jeremy could think of other more gratifying forms of intimacy. Still, he wanted to keep her happy. Which meant . . . what? How much was enough? Did they have to cuddle every night? How long? And in what position? Was he supposed to nuzzle, too? He was doing his best to figure out all the intricacies of Lexie’s desires, but it was confusing.
Then there was the temperature of the room when they were sleeping. While he was happiest with the air conditioner blasting and the overhead fan whirring, Lexie was always cold. When it was ninety degrees and humid outside, with the outer walls and windows warm to the touch, Jeremy might set the thermostat to sixty-eight degrees, crawl into bed with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, dressed only in underwear, and lie completely uncovered. A moment later, Lexie would exit the bathroom, turn the thermostat up to seventy-four degrees, crawl under the sheet and two blankets, pull them up to her ears, and shiver as if she had just crossed the arctic tundra.
“Why’s it so cold?” she’d ask, getting comfortable.
“Because I’m sweating,” he’d answer.
“How can you be sweating? It’s freezing in here.”
At least they were on the same page when it came to making love, he thought. In the weeks immediately following the ceremony, Lexie seemed to be endlessly in the mood, which—in Jeremy’s opinion, anyway—gave definition to what a honeymoon was supposed to be. The word no wasn’t in her vocabulary, and Jeremy chalked it up to the fact that her inhibitions were loosened not only because they were officially a couple, but because he was, in fact, irresistible to her. He could do no wrong, and he was so intoxicated by the feeling that he would daydream about her while working around the house. He would visualize the soft contours of her body or remember the sensation of her touch against his naked skin; he’d draw a deep breath remembering the sweetness of her breath or the luscious feel of her hair as his combed his fingers through it. By the time she’d return from work, it would be all he could do to offer a friendly kiss, and he’d spend the dinner hour staring at her lips as she ate, waiting for the opportunity to make his move. He was never turned down. He might be reeking and dirty from working in the yard, and still it seemed as if they couldn’t get their clothes off fast enough when they entered the bedroom.
Then, out of the blue, things changed. It was as if the sun rose one morning and by the time it set, the Lexie he knew had been replaced by a nonresponsive twin. He remembered it clearly, since it was the first time he’d been rejected: It was June 17, and he’d spent the rest of the morning alternately convincing himself it was no big deal and wondering whether he’d done something wrong. Later that night, it happened again, and for the next eight days, that was the story of their relationship. He’d make his move, she’d say that she was tired or simply not in the mood, and he’d lie beside her sulking,