Chapter 29
CONNOR
Iwake up wrapped around my wife for the second time in as many days.
My wife.
Mildred’s breathing is slow and even. We stayed up late last night, giving in to the chemistry that’s been steadily building over the past several weeks.
I’m afraid to move, to break this peace.
What if last night was a culmination of all the stress of our engagement?
What if she changes her mind and decides sleeping together is a bad idea?
Unfortunately, my bladder is screaming at me, so I carefully slide my arm out from under her and ease out of bed.
When I return a minute later, Mildred has rolled into my spot and stolen my pillow.
She cracks a lid when the floor creaks. I freeze, waiting to see what will happen. She blinks at me, eyes still heavy with sleep, but her gaze warms as it moves over my mostly naked form.
She shifts over and pats my pillow. “Come back and cuddle me.”
Relief is warm in my veins. I climb back into bed and stretch out next to her, slipping my arm under her.
She moves into the crook and wiggles around, grumbling, “Still not close enough.” She pulls herself on top of me, tucking her head under my chin.
“Are you feeling exceptionally affectionate?” I run my hand up and down her back, skimming the tiny doves tattooed below her shoulder blade that I discovered last night. “Or are you horny?”
“Probably more the former than the latter, but you’re poking me in the stomach, and other parts of my body are getting ideas, even if they’re a little sore. Should I move? Is this too much for you?”
“It’s not too much.” I like that she wants to be close to me, whatever the reason.
“Do you want to be this close to me?” She traces the angel wings on my chest.
“Yes.” I run my fingers down her spine. “I’ll take any excuse to be in your orbit, no matter how villainous.”
“Did your parents hug you when you were a kid?” She kisses my chest, right over my heart, as if she already knows the answer.
“Not really. We had nannies. Sometimes they were affectionate, but those ones never lasted long.”
She lifts her head, chin resting on my chest. “Why not?”
“Jealousy, probably? Once I called one of the nannies Mom by accident. She was gone the next day.” I was five. My mother had been in the other room and overheard. She slapped the nanny. I’ll never forget my mother’s rage, the nanny’s shock, or how angry I was at myself for ruining something good.
“I’m so sorry.” Mildred slides her arms under my back and squeezes me.
I wrap my arms around her and squeeze back. “I’m guessing you didn’t get many hugs, either.”
“No.” She rests her cheek on my chest so I can’t see her eyes, but I hear the sadness. “My parents were too high to pay attention to me most of the time. And when they did… Usually it was better if they just ignored me or forgot I was there.”
Rage, violent and consuming, hits me in a rush. If they weren’t already gone, I would hunt them down and find a way to make them pay.
She kisses the bottom of my chin, probably sensing my sudden tension. “I survived all the bad things, Connor.”
“You shouldn’t have had to endure them in the first place.”
“Neither should you, but here we are. Bad parents are bad parents. It doesn’t matter if they’re poor drug addicts or rich assholes.
They do damage, and we either survive and thrive to spite them, or we repeat history.
” She shifts, pulling herself higher. “I’m going to kiss you now, and we’re going to stop talking about things that hurt us and instead we’ll focus on the things that make us feel good, okay? ”
“Yes, darling.”
“You’re terrible at this game.” Mildred is all smiles as she kicks my ass for the tenth time at Mastermind.
“Or maybe I’m letting you win so I can see your face light up with evil glee,” I offer.
“Or maybe you’re just really bad at it,” she quips.
“It is a possibility,” I agree. “I haven’t had nearly the same opportunities as Flip to hone my board game skills.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
“As evidenced by your winning streak.”
Mildred uncrosses her legs with a groan.
I frown. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m great. Just not used to sex with a hockey player.” She stretches her legs and wiggles her toes on another groan.
“Why don’t I run you a bath, and you can have a soak?” I suggest.
“What will you do?”
“I’ll sit with you.” As if there’s anything else I’d rather do.
She perks up. “In the bath?”
“I barely fit in there on my own, and we both know if I get in with you, there would be no relaxing, and we’d only add to your soreness.”
She gives me sweet-menace eyes. “What if I want to add to the soreness?”
I kiss her forehead. “Bath first. Then we’ll see if you’re ready to play with me again.”
“This is my honeymoon! Shouldn’t I get to decide if I’m ready to play with you or not?” she calls after me.
I poke my head back into the living room. “It’s my honeymoon, too.”
I leave her pouting and start the bath, adding strawberry-vanilla bubbles. I grab her book from the nightstand and move one of the occasional chairs next to the tub before I return to the living room.
“I can walk.” Her voice is laced with amusement as I scoop her up.
“You should save your energy.” I nuzzle into her neck. “In case I decide you’re in good enough condition to play later.”
“The important parts are in perfectly good condition. It’s my thighs that are sore.” She kisses my neck. “And my abs. And basically everywhere else.”
“It’s interesting what you deem unimportant.” I set her on the bathmat.
The tub is positioned so it, too, has an amazing view of the lake. Candles cover the surface of the vanity and the small table next to the bath. I even poured her a glass of sparkling grape juice, since she usually reserves alcohol consumption for nights out with friends.
“It’s so pretty in here.”
“It matches you, then.” I peel her out of her clothes. Every time it feels like unwrapping the most precious gift. Once she’s beautifully naked, I help her into the tub.
She sinks into the hot water with a groan, the bubbles covering all her soft, tempting parts. She reclines, letting her hair spill over the edge as her eyes fall closed. “Oh, this is nice.”
My chest warms with satisfaction.
I nab one of her many scrunchies from the vanity and move behind her. Running my fingers through her hair, I gather the thick strands and pull them into a messy bun, securing it.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” I move the book from the chair and take a seat. “I thought I could read to you.”
“My very own narrator.” She sinks down until her chin brushes the bubbles. “Go on, then.”
I flip to a bookmarked passage and skim the contents.
“And don’t skip the spicy parts,” she warns, still smiling.
“I wouldn’t dare.” I start reading, the scene playing out, tension shifting on the pages and in the room as the hero and heroine push each other’s buttons. “These two should just fuck and get it over with,” I muse as I flip the page.
“Soon. It’s all about the buildup.” She sighs.
“Have you read this one before?” I flip to the next page, skimming ahead.
“It’s a comfort read.”
“There’s a lot of tension for a comfort read.”
“That’s the point.”
I continue where I left off, the conflict between the two rising right along with the heated tension. And then they break. The water sloshes as Mildred shifts, her hands disappearing beneath the surface as the hero’s fingers skim the heroine’s curves and slide into her panties.
Mildred’s eyes meet mine. “Don’t stop reading.”
“Are you playing without me?” I shift to sit on the edge of the tub.
“If you got in, you could play with me, too.” The water laps against the swell of her breasts.
“I think I like the view from here.” I drag my fingers through the bubbles, displacing them, giving me a brief glimpse of her hands dragging down her thighs, and then her delicate fingers dipping between.
I keep reading for a few more paragraphs, the hero and heroine giving in to the chemistry raging between them, eyes flicking up to Mildred between sentences, taking in her parted lips, pink cheeks, and lust-filled eyes as the couple embraces their basest, darkest desires and he fucks her in the stairwell of their apartment, where anyone could find them.
Mildred shudders and sighs, eyes falling closed as she reaches her peak. That’s my wife.
When the scene ends, I set the book on the chair and grip the edges of the tub, leaning down to brush my lips over hers as I whisper, “What’s your darkest fantasy, darling?”
Her bottom lip slides through her teeth, gaze shifting to the side, hands still between her thighs. “Why?”
“Because I want to know what gets you hot, aside from me reading to you.” I drag my hand through the slowly dissipating bubbles.
“I don’t want you to judge me,” she whispers.
“My sweet wife.” I thrill at the way she softens whenever I say those words. I brush my lips over hers again. “I did unholy things to a sandwich out of spite. I won’t judge you for the things that turn you on.”
She bites back a smile, and her eyes search mine. I see the moment she decides she can trust me with this part of herself. “Being watched, watching, the thrill of being somewhere we could get caught.”
“Like when I caught you in your car, listening to one of your books?” I ask.
Her eyes spark. “Yes, exactly like that.”
I let my fingers dip under the surface, skimming her thigh. “I like watching you.” I brush her hand out of the way. “The way you soften.” I ease a finger inside her, pumping slowly. “The pretty sounds you make.”
She whimpers.
“How quiet you’d have to be if I fucked you somewhere I shouldn’t.” I rub her clit. “Like the dining room table at home while the staff are in the kitchen.”
She moans.
“Or your favorite couch in the library while Ethel is cleaning your rooms.”
“Oh, God…” She arches and groans.
“In the powder room during a family gathering at my parents’ house.”
Her hips swivel, and she grips her breast.
“Or maybe you’d prefer my childhood bedroom?”