Chapter 16
WARREN
Sleep doesn’t come as quickly for me as it does Mara, not even being spooned around her while she hugs my arm to her chest. Even the fireplace rests in repose with its dim glow.
But not me.
Not with all these thoughts racing through my head and the taste of my wife still on my lips. I’m not the smartest man in the world, but I don’t take lightly how much it meant for Mara to push beyond the hurts of her past and open up to me in both body and heart.
And open up to me, she did. As much as I’d tried to focus solely on her pleasure, the taste and feel of her quim had me releasing in my pants like an untried youth.
I can’t even bring myself to grimace or feel embarrassment that I had to change my trousers, though, because it was worth it to see her come undone in our marriage bed.
Pushing aside thoughts of what the next night could look like for us, I angle my nose into her sleep-mussed hair and deliver my confession into the silky strands.
“I love you, my brave little wife.” Words low and hushed, but no less truth.
“Love you so goddamn much. And this house is a home now that you and Emmaline are here and made me a husband and a papa.”
I never want to go back to having an empty house with only myself for company because now I know what I’d be missing.
A cute baby who steals my goddamned heart every time she gives me a gummy smile.
The softness of my wife as she clings to me in our bed.
What more could a man ask for? I press a lingering kiss to the velvety skin of her neck and then force my eyes closed for a few seconds.
Only to come to full awareness at the sounds of a very awake baby. I’m surprised Emmaline let us sleep this long. Grateful, but surprised.
I lean over and run my lips over the curve of Mara’s cheek. “Hey,” I whisper.
“Hmm?” Her legs tangle with mine in a stretch before she pulls my arm in even further. “What is it?”
“Goddamn, you’re so beautiful,” I blurt out over Emmaline’s fussing. I don’t think Mara’s ever been so damn relaxed and peaceful, but now that I see a satisfied, drowsy smile on her pretty mouth and a blush of shyness that even the moonlight can’t hide, I want her to stay this way forever.
Of course, having my hand nestled between paradise doesn’t hurt either.
“Emmaline wants to eat. No, I’ve got her…
you stay here in bed where it’s warm.” I reluctantly reclaim my arm and light the lamp on my way to pick up our baby.
Her little legs kick up in excitement when she sees me, and I swear all that cooing she’s doing is her trying to say papa.
My chest tightens at the love that settles atop my shoulders.
This perfect little girl is my child, and I dare any man or woman to say otherwise.
“C’mere, you. I know you’ve got to be hungry because you were such a good baby to let Momma sleep for a little bit, yes you were.
” She gnaws on her balled up fists for a moment before growing frustrated at the lack of milk.
For being such a tiny little thing, she sure has a healthy set of lungs and a good bit of squirm on her.
I’d expect nothing less from a daughter of mine.
“Now, now…” I tug the fist with the birthmark and drop a kiss on it.
“Let’s not act like that. You know we’re not gonna let you go hungry. ”
Still sluggish from lack of sleep, Mara stuffs a pillow behind her back and reaches out for our baby, nightgown gaped open in readiness to feed Emmaline.
I can’t deny that I liked it better when the hem was rucked up around her hips, but this is a mighty pleasing sight, too.
Emmaline roots around in her mother’s arms, her cries immediately cutting off when she gets what she wants.
I join them in bed and lean up on an elbow to watch the way Mara cares for her. “You’re a good mother.”
“Do you think so?” She traces over the shell of Emmaline’s ear before glancing at me. “I want to be better than what I had as a child.”
“You already are, I promise you that.” Bittersweetness sticks in my throat. My wife is so wickedly innocent with her hair in disarray about her shoulders, but everything in her life was forced on her. Scripture, motherhood, marriage…
I can’t find fault in making her marry me, though. Never in that.
“Good.” A yawn breaks through her soft smile, and she sways backward into the pillow. A pillow that supports her back but not her neck. That will never do.
Not at all. I settle against the headboard and pat between my legs. “C’mere.”
Mara laughs lightly, a sound I’ll never take for granted. “Why would I do that when there’s a perfectly good pillow behind me?”
“But wouldn’t you rather a pillow that can warm you and hold you at the same time?” I cock an eyebrow. “One that goes by the name of Warren?”
“You didn’t tell me I’d be marrying a pillow.” Indecision plays over her tired features as another yawn escapes her, but then she inches over. “All right. You make a good point.”
A runaway locomotive couldn’t stop my grin as I get exactly what I want—my wife relaxing in my embrace as she feeds our child. I rub Emmaline’s little fist, happiness damn near exploding inside when tiny fingers grip one of mine.
Mara’s hair tickles my chest when she almost timidly eases a look at me. “Sing for us?”
“Of course.” I could never deny the sparkle of hope in her eyes, so I kiss her temple and ease into the low notes of an old lullaby. What a lucky man I am to be able to hold everything most precious to me in my arms.
My wife, who’s blossoming and opening up to me in every way.
My child, who’s as cute as a button and already has me wrapped around her finger.
My perfect little family.