Chapter 23 #2
Rather than ruin this by attempting to string words together, I slammed into her hard. She was wet in a way that made me think of drowning, of going under and never, ever coming up again.
“Oh my god,” she cried out. “Oh, fuck . Oh my god. Noah.”
I leaned into her, pressing her knees to her chest and forcing a hoarse, desperate sigh from her. Noise like this was going to get us in trouble. “You will be quiet, wife.” With a hand cupping her jaw, I stroked my thumb over her lips. “Don’t think about testing me.”
She nipped at the pad of my thumb and smiled about it. An uncharitable sound rattled in my chest. I responded by thrusting into her like I wanted to fuck her through the wall, which wasn’t a smart approach to minimizing the noise.
The way I rocked into her was ruthless, as if I didn’t care about her pleasure or anything other than using her to slake my own needs.
As if I wasn’t terrified that I’d actually hurt her or scare her away.
That she’d quickly come to the realization I didn’t know how to treat her with the tenderness she deserved, and the only thing I was capable of doing was rutting on her like a wild animal.
But this position, with her pinned beneath me and nearly folded in half, was unreal.
If I wasn’t a wild animal before taking her like this, there was no turning back now.
I knew what it was like to see arousal fog my wife’s eyes and feel the slick clench of her desire on my cock, and I’d never be able to forget.
I didn’t want to forget, but more importantly I didn’t want this to end. Not just this night, not just the sex. I didn’t want to let her go all over again and settle back into a life where she wasn’t mine.
“That’s it,” I said as Shay whimpered. She lashed her arms around my neck, shoved her fingers through my hair, ran her palms down my flanks. It felt like she was learning the topography, rushing to find everything she could and catalog it for safekeeping.
For the next time.
I wanted to write my name inside her. Her inner muscles tightened around me and I moved my thumb from her lips.
I dropped a quick kiss there before resting my forehead against hers.
I had a minute, maybe two, before I drained myself into her and then snuggled her like she was the key to preventing my soul from slipping away.
“That’s my girl,” I growled as she came. I collected her cries with a kiss and answered the beautiful spasms inside her with one of my own, and it wasn’t until I could hear over my heartbeat again that I realized I’d been whispering mine into her skin the whole time.
* * *
My phone woke me up. It was always the phone. No need for an alarm when I could count on something to go wrong and someone to call and tell me about it.
But before I could focus on the screen, I heard a child-sized knock at my door. Then, “Noah, some people are here to see you.”
Beside me, Shay mumbled, “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” I replied, still squinting at the screen. Why would I have twenty-nine text messages on a Sunday morning? What the fresh hell? “Who is it, Gen?”
She turned the knob and pushed the door open just enough to peek in with one eyeball. “Everyone.”
“Okay,” I said to Gennie. “Give me just a minute and I’ll come downstairs.”
“Will Shay come too?”
“Oh Jesus,” I muttered. “Yeah. She’ll come with me. Okay?”
“Can we have pancakes?”
“Yes. We’ll have anything you want. Does that work?”
Instead of responding, Gennie slammed the door and ran down the hall. Any hope of lazy Sunday morning sex just flew right out the window.
“Well. That happened.” Shay patted my shoulder before climbing out of bed. “I’m going to borrow a shirt. Okay?”
Still staring at my phone, I said, “Everything I have is yours.”
“That seems excessive,” she said from inside my closet.
“It’s not.” I pulled on boxers and jeans as I scowled at text after text from folks around town saying Congratulations! and nothing more. What the fuck was everyone congratulating me for? Had to be a mix-up.
Shay stepped out of the closet wearing last night’s jeans and one of my button-down shirts. She had it knotted at her waist and the sleeves folded up to her elbows, and I couldn’t find it in me to care about whoever the fuck was at my door first thing in the damn morning.
“Come over here.” I beckoned her closer but she wagged a finger at me. “I’m not joking, wife.”
“We have things”—she waved both hands at the door—“to deal with. Let’s do that first.”
I never wanted her to wear anything but my shirts. And I wanted to rip this one off her.
She motioned to the phone in my hands. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”
“No.” I sighed. “I don’t know.”
Shay finger-combed her hair as we descended the stairs. Gennie was parked in front of the door, sword in hand and eye patch on her wrist.
“Mr. Bones is bringing the goats up for yoga,” Gennie said, pointing her sword toward the window.
I glanced outside and spotted half a dozen pickup trucks and at least ten of Little Star’s four-wheelers. Regardless of the texts, this had all the markings of a farm disaster. “I really hope we don’t have cows wandering the town,” I said under my breath as I opened the door.
I didn’t get a chance to ask about cows or downed sections of fence because most of my staff—including Bones and four goats—sent up a cheer when Gennie, Shay, and I stepped outside.
Everyone was there. Nyomi, Wheatie, the farm stand crew.
And they were holding bouquets of flowers and balloons.
Gail Castro clutched two bottles of champagne by the neck.
Gennie ducked behind me and buried her face in my t-shirt. Shay smiled but cut a confused glance in my direction.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Nyomi shouted. When I didn’t respond, she added, “That you guys got married!”
“That we—” The words evaporated off my tongue.
A strangled noise squeaked out of Shay. “Noah,” she whispered. “Say something.”
“Fuck.”