Chapter 30
HANNAH
Me
Where are you?
Travis
Lifting weights with Galaxy. You’re home already? I thought you were going to a yoga class.
Me
Changed my mind.
I can see the three dots, indicating he’s typing a response, but before it comes through, I send him a photo of me in his jersey. Only his jersey.
It’s probably hard to know that’s all I’m wearing, considering how big it is on me, but hopefully he’ll get the memo. The memo being I’d like to have sex with my husband immediately.
Travis
I’ll be there in eleven minutes.
I fight a grin and set my phone on my dresser, then move over to the mirror to look at myself. His white and purple jersey comes down nearly to my knees and the sleeves fall past my hands. Still, it’s not a bad costume.
I’m dressed as Travis Bennett’s hot, sexy wife who’s been turned on all day, every day, for weeks now. Except it’s really more me intentionally trying to look the way I feel.
I’m in love with him. I probably have been for longer than I’d like to admit.
But the thought terrifies me. I’m not even sure why it’s so scary.
I trust him. He’s amazing. He continually tells me and shows me how he feels.
And Wren too. They text daily now about podcasts and Twilight (they’re reading the books together).
This gorgeous, sweet man has shown up for me in such big ways.
He’s always taking care of me, and now I want to flip the tables.
I walk downstairs and check on dinner. I didn’t have time to make a whole meal, so I picked up food on my way home instead. All his favorites. Huckleberry muffins, barbecue ribs, and the macaroni and cheese from a deli nearby that he eats at least once a week.
I know that one meal and a sexy fantasy isn’t going to even the scales, but it’s a start.
Nine minutes have passed when the front door opens and Travis walks through, looking wide-eyed and frantic. He slams the door behind him and then freezes just inside the doorway when he spots me in the kitchen.
“Welcome home, honey,” I say in my sweetest voice.
His stare stays locked on me as I step away from the counter into the space between the kitchen and living room, giving him an unobstructed view of my outfit in the process.
His gaze moves slowly down to my legs and then back up.
The heat in his eyes makes my skin prick with awareness and my pussy clench.
He walks slowly, never taking his eyes off me, erasing the distance between us. My heart is racing in my chest. The way he looks at me is transformative. Like he’s the lucky one instead of the other way around.
“Holy shit.” He drops to his knees in front of me. His hands go to my calves and then drag up to my thighs, only stopping when he reaches the apex of my thighs. He groans and then pushes the jersey up like he needs to double-check I’m really not wearing panties.
Only then does he bring his stare up to my face. “How are you real?”
Smiling, I run my fingers through his thick, dark hair. It’s messy from a day of practice and working out. I like him this way, caught off guard and not trying to be everything I want or need. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the effort, but I like him for him.
“I got dinner for us,” I say. “And then you can peel me out of your jersey, and we can have sex all night?” I let the sentence hang as a question, hoping he doesn’t have other plans.
“Two things,” he says, not moving from where he kneels in front of me. “One. Thank you. This is the best surprise of my life.”
“And two?”
“The jersey stays on.”
Then he’s ducking under the fabric and hooking an arm around my left leg and placing it on his shoulder. His mouth finds me already wet and ready.
“What about dinner?” I ask as he burrows his face into my center.
His only reply is a deep, satisfied groan, but I understand his meaning: later.
With one leg draped over him, he holds me in place as he licks and nibbles, then fucks me with his tongue.
I think I finally understand what he meant about swallowing butterflies because my stomach flutters and dips.
All the while heat and electricity course through me.
I ache for him in ways I didn’t know was possible.
“Travis,” I say his name as I grip his hair. I’m so close.
“Wife.” His lips move to suck on my clit as he plunges two fingers inside me. I gasp and then shudder as I come around him.
My orgasm stretches out for what feels like minutes. He doesn’t let up until I’m a boneless heap leaning into him to stay upright.
Travis places a chaste kiss on my lower stomach and then stands. His dark eyes are bright and sparkle with mischief and love. Then he’s scooping me up in his arms.
“You look good wearing my jersey, baby,” he says, gaze dipping to my chest and then to the number on the sleeve.
“Yeah?”
He nods and then carries me up the stairs to his room. I could remind him of dinner, but I’m not interested in food either.
I wake up with one of Travis’s arms and legs draped over me. When I open my eyes, he’s already awake and staring at me with a smile on his face.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that watching people sleep is creepy?” A sleepy, happy smile tugs at my lips as I let my lashes flutter closed again.
“Nope,” he says, hand sliding around the curve of my waist. “One of her many parental failures, I suppose.”
My eyes pop open.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” I continue to mentally berate myself for the slip. I know how sensitive a topic that is for him.
He shakes his head, smile not wavering. “Nothing to be sorry for, babe.”
Still, I feel like a jerk.
His head lowers until his nose brushes against mine. He places a kiss on my lips and then pulls back. “My bad manners aside, I think you’re the one to blame in this instance.”
“Yeah?”
His hand slides under the jersey. It didn’t come off all night long. A surprising feat considering how many orgasms he delivered.
Warm fingers graze over my stomach and up to palm my breast. Tingles spread out on my skin beneath his touch.
“I like having you in my bed. You should just move the rest of your shit in here.” He motions with his head toward the small pile of clothes I’ve left from previous nights. “You sleep in here all the time anyway, even when I’m gone.”
“Your bed is better.” And I like sleeping in here, smelling him on the sheets and pillows.
“And I love coming home and finding you here.”
I already knew that based on the sex that tends to follow his discovery.
I nod my agreement. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” His smile lifts higher, and then he buries his head in my neck.
“There goes my sleep schedule,” I mutter playfully.
“You didn’t seem to mind a little sleep deprivation last night when you were screaming my name.” His voice lifts an octave as he mimics me, “‘Oh, Travis! Oh, I missed you so much. You’re so deep. It feels so damn good. You’re the best husband ever.’”
I smack his chest playfully as a laugh bubbles up and slips free, but yeah…I said most of those things and thought the others.
My alarm goes off and Travis rolls to the side to let me shut it off.
He groans and I make a sad, pouty face as I get out of the bed. One of these days we’re going to be able to spend an entire weekend in it together and it’s going to be glorious. My hands fall to the hem of his jersey but before I take it off, I look to Travis.
“Is it going to break your heart to watch me take this off? Do you need to turn around?”
“Nah. Just…” He holds up a finger to indicate he needs one second, then grabs his phone and takes a photo.
I giggle as he takes, what sounds like a hundred. I turn so he can get the back too because why the hell not?
When he’s done, I finally take off the jersey and lay it nicely on the end of the bed. I have a feeling I’ll be wearing it again soon.
“What time are you done today? Do you want to go out or should I grab dinner on my way home?” he asks, getting up and going to the dresser. He pulls out clean clothes while I finger comb my hair.
“You’re on your own tonight. I have that seminar in Helena with Kinsley tomorrow so we’re driving up after practice.”
“Oh, right. Bummer.”
I hum my agreement as I get dressed. It should be fun, working with Kinsley and teaching young gymnasts some bar skills, but I would rather a repeat of last night with my sexy husband.
Travis showers while I get ready for practice and then pack for a night away. When I’m done, I find him downstairs zipping up my lunchbox.
“Baby girl.” He winks and slides it across the table to me.
Laughing, I put it in my bag. By the time I’m done, he’s already set my muffin and coffee in front of me too.
“Tomorrow, when you get back. Me and you, lazy date night at home.”
“Sounds amazing.”
He grins, and I let contentment seep into my bones. I can’t remember ever being this happy.
“You and me…” He starts, then pauses. “I want to give us a real shot outside of our fake marriage arrangement. Whatever you want that to look like. Let’s date or talk or whatever the kids are calling it these days.”
I laugh because a few months ago he was one of those kids. So was I. Though admittedly, I wasn’t doing much dating or talking.
“I want to keep seeing you too, but I’m not sure what that should look like.” Do I keep living here? Do we stay married? I don’t want him to feel like he’s obligated to me. He’s never made me feel that way, but will he in a year or five if we don’t take some time to breathe?
“If you want to get an annulment and start over, then I’m cool with that, though I can’t promise not to keep calling you wife. I like the way it sounds.”
I do too.
“The Winter Classic is in six weeks. When that’s over and I’m not mooching off you, then we can see how we both feel. I don’t want you to resent me later when you realize I’ve concocted this whole scheme to invade your home and life.”
“If either of us was scheming, it was definitely me.” He’s smiling when he kisses me, but then his expression shifts. “Do you really feel like you’re mooching off me?”
“A little,” I admit. Or a lot.