Chapter 13 #4
I glance up, surprised at the thick haze I have to blink away before the uncertainty on his face comes into focus.
“I don’t—I didn’t realize I was crying.” Now that my lips are my own again, they feel strange as my words slip through them.
Swollen, tingling, and throbbing with every beat of my heart.
I smile, but it feels wobbly with the pure happiness running through me.
“It was everything to me. Everything I’d ever dreamed it could be.
You make me feel so…so cherished. Protected. ”
“Always. You should always feel that way with me.” Warren wipes away a rogue tear and settles me against his chest. One hand lazily draws circles on my back, making my skin pebble and my nipples tighten. “And how about loved? Can you feel how much I love you?”
“Of course I can,” I blurt out over a small, nervous giggle. “I’m sitting on it now.” Good Lord. I don’t know how it’s possible, but his cock feels even bigger than when I first saw it. And it’s not dread or fear that tightens my stomach when it kicks beneath me.
No, it’s a sudden longing to give myself to my husband. Because if he takes such care with me in only a kiss, what would he do with the rest of me in our bed?
“And she laughs at me in my misery.” Warren groans deeply into my hair, making little pinpricks form at the heat of his breath.
“That’s all right, wife. I’m not ashamed that my body tells you how much it loves you.
Just know that my heart loved you first.” He tips my chin up, and when our gazes lock, there’s so much in his heated look. “For always and forever.”
Lust is nothing new to me. Not when I’ve seen it on so many men’s faces that I quickly grew to hate the way their eyes darkened or the way their pants tented.
It’s different with Warren, though.
He wants me.
But he also loves me.
And that love is clearly woven between the streaks of hungry desire reflected back at me. A heavy ball of unsettling emotion starts in the pit of my stomach and climbs up until it thickens my voice. “Warren, I…I feel…”
Do I love him already? If not for Emmaline, I don’t think I would even know the meaning of the word.
“Go on, wife.” He stares hungrily at my lips as if he can coax the confession from me, but it’s hard to corral my thoughts when every breath, every movement, is so full of…of him. “Tell me what you feel.”
“I think I…” The distance between us lessens even more as his mouth dips to taste my whisper.
“That’s it,” he encourages raggedly. “Keep going.”
“I—”
A sharp cry from Emmaline pierces the air, and I slump in torn relief.
“I need to feed her.” My head spins when I leave his lap, but this interruption couldn’t have happened at a better moment. I need time. Time to process the game, the kiss, and the mystery that is my husband.
The burning weight of his gaze never leaves me as I scoop up my crying baby and sit on the sofa.
“It’s okay, my darling.” She cries angrily as I undo my buttons with clumsy fingers, and once she latches on, disgruntled protests still interrupt her hungry gulps at times.
I suppose she didn’t realize how hungry she would be after napping for three hours.
Warren moves closer, and even with my focus steadfastly trained on Emmaline, there’s no missing the bulge in his pants as he comes to stand beside me.
Don’t look don’t look don’t look.
But it’s impossible to ignore the beast fighting its fabric prison when he’s this close to me.
I freeze when he bends down, but he only captures the tiny hand that rests on my breast. I shiver at the accidental brush of his fingers over my bare skin, though his brief pause makes me wonder just how accidental the touch was.
“Hey, Papa’s sweet girl,” he says, kissing her birthmark. “Look at you getting what you want and still scowling about it. Just like your momma.”
My head shoots up. “What do you mean, just like me?” Damn it. Now my daughter and I both have matching scowls for sure.
“Just what I said.” Warren gently taps my temple. “Don’t get too caught up in here now that you’re letting your heart take the lead.” He slowly leans down again, zeroing in on my mouth.
Each second drags out, allowing me to see it coming and maybe even tilt my chin up to meet him. The press of his lips is soft and controlled but no less intense. When it’s over, my lashes sluggishly flutter open to the wild need in his eyes.
Voice as coarse as gravel, he squeezes the thickness between his legs and says, “Fuck. The things you do to me, wife.” Another squeeze, and his pained expression and voice only deepen.
“I’m gonna go take care of this while you take care of her.
You spend this afternoon thinking on what it is you want to tell me, and we’ll talk about it tonight in bed. ”
With one last lingering kiss to my forehead, he leaves, humming a low tune as he treads down the hallway to take care of…that. His tented trousers. Is he going to think of me? Of what would have happened if Emmaline hadn’t woken up just now?
Then his last words hit me, and a charge of nervous anticipation both heats and chills my blood.
Tonight.
In bed.