Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
ETHAN
“Let’s go in here!” Nevaeh points to the tattoo shop.
After spending the afternoon in bed, wrapped around my wife and having room service brought up for a late lunch, she insisted we get out and explore.
We’ve spent the last hour or so checking out the fountains and people watching.
Nevaeh loves to watch people and how they react to each other.
She giggles when they kiss and makes up stories when they’re in a heated discussion.
“You going to get another tattoo?” I ask, walking in behind her.
She’s dressed simply in a pair of khaki skinny jeans and a netted see-through gold shirt with a white tank top underneath.
The shirt shows off her perfect tits and curves, and the jeans mold to her plump ass.
All I can think about is the next time I’m going to get her underneath me.
Resisting her in the shower took an ungodly amount of strength, no matter how hard she tried to convince me.
But I wasn’t about to hurt her. She might not be sore yet, but she’ll be feeling it tomorrow, and I wasn’t about to add to that.
We have our entire lives to be together…
But even as the thought surfaces, a large lump forms in my throat.
Forcibly, I swallow it down, refusing to think about just how long I might have with Nevaeh.
I’m not going to go there until I speak to her doctor myself.
I wanted to ply her with a million questions last night when she told me about her brain tumor, but I held back, not wanting to upset her.
I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice, she was worried about marrying me, knowing I’ve already lost my daughter and Kelsi.
But what she doesn’t understand is that just a single day with Nevaeh is worth the heartbreak I would feel if I lost her.
I’ve spent the last twelve years keeping my emotions locked away, but I can’t do that with her.
She’s the other half of me. The more I was scared of.
I can’t be me without her, but more importantly, I don’t want to be me without her.
“I’d like to get the quote from our rings,” she says, stepping up to the front counter. The gentleman greets her and she explains what she would like. He tells her he can do that now if she can give him a few minutes to draw it up.
“I’d like it done as well,” I tell him, sliding my arms around Nevaeh from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder. I kiss the side of her neck and she tilts her face up to smile at me.
While we wait for the guy to come back out, we sit on the couch.
Nevaeh cuddles into my side while looking through the various photo albums filled with different drawings, every once in a while asking me what I think about the drawing.
While we wait, I focus on Nevaeh. The sweetness of her scent, the craziness of her hair, how soft her skin is.
I’m worried what will be waiting for us when we return, what the doctor will say.
But I need to be strong for her. She needs me to be strong for her.
With Felix and Logan being locked up, I’ve told Rosco to hire a company to move our stuff to my house.
When we return, we’ll go straight there.
“What do you think?” Pete, the tattoo artist, asks, showing us the designs. He’s drawn up a more feminine version for Nevaeh, and something more simple and masculine for me. I would’ve preferred to go to Forbidden Ink, but I must admit the guy did a damn good job.
“I love it,” Nevaeh squeals.
“Looks great,” I add.
Nevaeh goes first, getting it inked on the inside of her wrist, and when it’s my turn, I get it right over my heart.
She steals my phone because it has the better camera and takes pictures of both our tattoos, telling me she wants to always remember today.
I can’t help feeling like her words have a deeper meaning, but I push it aside.
When we’re done, I pay the artist and then open the door for Nevaeh, so we can head back onto the Strip.
I’m not paying attention, focusing on my phone—my bar manager is asking about a liquor order she needs to place—so when Nevaeh stops in her tracks, I run into the back of her.
She stumbles forward, and I hook my arm around her waist so she doesn’t fall.
“Ethan,” she breathes, taking another step forward, off the sidewalk and onto the bicycle lane of the road.
It’s raining heavily, and without an umbrella she’s getting soaked.
But it doesn’t seem to bother her. Turning to face me, her head tilts toward the open sky, her eyes close, and the most beautiful smile appears.
And that’s when it hits me: her list. To dance in the rain. To be kissed in the rain.
In the short distance, a street performer is playing the saxophone.
I reach out and take Nevaeh’s hand, and she turns her attention to me.
Wrapping my arms around her waist, I bring her close to me.
She glances up, confused at first, but when I start to sway us to the music, her face lights up in realization.
With the music in the background and the rain coming down on us, we dance in the street, with Nevaeh in my arms and her head against my chest. Life on Earth could be ending, the entire world imploding, but in this moment, with my wife in my arms, it feels as if it’s only the two of us.
When the song comes to an end, I pull back slightly. “Thank you for the dance,” I tell her, pushing her drenched hair off her face, before I frame her cheeks with my palms and cover her mouth with mine. With our tongues swirling around each other, we kiss until Nevaeh shivers against me.
“Let’s get out of here, baby,” I murmur against her lips. “Go back to the hotel and get warmed up.”
Once we’re back to our room and showered, I notice she’s not as animated as she was earlier. A few times, she squints her eyes, telling me she’s fighting a headache. She doesn’t want me to know, though—doesn’t want to sour the day—so I let it go.
While we eat our dinner, she pulls out her list from her luggage and smiles softly as she crosses out all the items we’ve done. “I only have a few left.”
“Like what?”
She looks over her list. “Go skydiving, visit another country for fun, tell my mom how I really feel, make a difference in someone’s life, go in a hot air balloon, go skinny-dipping…”
“That’s it?” I ask when her voice trails off, knowing there’s at least one more.
“Um…” She glances at me with a slight frown marring her features. “Become a mom.” She shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.
“You will become a mom,” I tell her. “In some way, shape, or form, you will.”
She nods, but it’s more to appease me.
“I’m tired,” she says in a resigned tone.
Then, she folds up her list and places it on the nightstand.
She moves everything off the bed and snuggles into my side, and within minutes her eyes close and her breathing evens out.
Since I’m used to staying awake a lot later, but I don’t want to move from her side, I grab my phone and Google Meningioma tumor, where I spend the next several hours learning everything I can about the tumor that is trying to fuck with my wife.
I wake up to Nevaeh trailing open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder and chest. The woman loves to explore my body while I’m asleep and I’m not going to complain.
Waking up to her lips on me is without a doubt the best way to wake up.
As a matter of fact, if I have it my way, I plan to wake up like this every day for the rest of my life—which is why I reached out to a couple doctors last night.
When you’re in the business my dad is in, you get to know a variety of people.
You would be shocked at how many doctors and lawyers and men in power dabble in illegal extracurriculars.
Using my connections, I’ve put out feelers to get an appointment with the best neurologist money can buy.
I know Nevaeh already has a doctor, but I’m going to make sure whoever sees her is the best out there. I’m not taking any chances.
“You look distracted,” Nevaeh says with a frown.
When I glance down, I notice her hand is wrapped around my cock and she’s stroking it up and down.
“Sorry.” I shake the fog from my head and give her a smile.
“You don’t… regret yesterday, do you?” she asks softly, nibbling on her top lip nervously.
“What?” Sitting up, I grab her by the curves of her hips and flip her onto her back.
“Don’t ever say shit like that again,” I growl.
“I love you and I could never regret marrying you.” I nip at her jaw before fusing our mouths together.
My tongue darts out, and I explore her mouth.
She must’ve been awake for a little while because her breath is minty fresh.
When her thighs press together against my hips, I laugh, knowing what she wants. My little angel is quickly becoming addicted to sex. “Are you sore?” I ask, licking across her fleshy top lip.
“No,” she moans, squeezing her thighs together again. I don’t believe her, but I’m also not going to argue. Nevaeh has quickly learned I can’t tell her no. What she wants, she gets, and now that I know about her… fuck, she could ask me for anything and I’d make sure she gets it.
Lifting slightly, I pull her pajama shirt over her head, exposing her perky tits. I wrap my lips and teeth around one of her nipples and bite down playfully. Nevaeh squeals in shock, but when I lick the pain away, she moans in pleasure.
“I want you,” she breathes, always so eager.
Refusing to rush, I switch to her other nipple and bite down on it.
“Ethan!” she shrieks through a laugh.
“I’m hungry,” I joke.
“Then eat me down there,” she says, tugging on my hair.
When I glance up, her cheeks are tinted pink and her eyes are widened in shock that she actually said that.
I throw my head back in a laugh at how adorable she is.
Her mom never should’ve tried to clip her daughter’s wings.
She was meant to spread ’em wide and fly high, and nothing and no one will ever keep her down—not if I can help it.
“You don’t have to tell me twice, Angel.” I scoot down her body and get started on quenching my hunger. I eat her pussy until she’s trembling and begging me to fuck her. Then, with a smack to her plump ass, I tell her to turn over.
Her eyes dilate a bit at my words, and I note that my woman loves to be told what to do. Once she’s on her hands and knees, she glances back at me through the curtain of her hair. Her lashes flutter, and she bites on her bottom lip, waiting to see what I’ll do next.
Gripping my shaft in my palm, I stroke it a couple times, causing Nevaeh to moan softly.
Closing the small distance between us, I lean over her, and curling her thick mane around my fist, angle her face back to kiss her.
Her lips are soft and her tongue moves in perfect sync with mine.
Fuck, I could be with this woman every second of every day for the rest of my life and never get enough.
“Ethan,” she whines. “Please… I need you in me.”
Reluctantly, I release her mouth and hair.
I nudge her legs apart and push her back down slightly, exposing her glistening arousal.
She drops her head to the pillow and glances back at me through her lashes.
I have half a mind to grab my phone and take a picture of her like this, but then she whines once more, and I push the thought to the side—another time.
With my dick in my fist, I guide myself into her slick, hot cunt. I stop once I’m buried deep in her, giving her a minute to adjust to my size.
“You okay, baby?” I ask, wanting to make sure she’s not too sore or in pain.
Instead of answering, the fucking minx wiggles her ass. “Ethan, fuck me, please.” I smirk at her use of the F-word. She’s used it a few times now and it’s sexy as hell coming from her angelic lips. And the fact that every time she says it, she adds a please to it makes it that much sexier.
I pull back slightly, and then thrust my hips forward, sinking inside her. Her head falls back to the pillow and her back arches. “Oh, God, yes,” she moans in pleasure.
I repeat the motion, and this time, her tight walls constrict around my dick. “Right there,” she breathes. “It feels so good.”
With my fingers gripping the curve of her hip, I drive into her again and again.
With every moan and cry from her lips, I lose a little more control, until I’m thrusting into her with a punishing rhythm—savagely, almost violently.
I can’t get deep enough, I can’t fuck her hard enough.
I have no clue where the hell she ends and I begin anymore.
“I’m so close,” she cries in frustration.
“Massage your clit, baby.”
She reaches under her, doing as I say. Her moans get louder, hoarser, and when a gasp escapes her lips and her pussy clamps down on my dick like a goddamn vice, I know she’s fallen over the edge, taking me with her.
After we’re both cleaned up, we lie in bed. Nevaeh wraps her arms around me and her legs weave in between mine. It’s as if she’s an extension of myself.
“I never imagined it could be like this,” she admits softly, kissing the skin where my fresh tattoo is inked. “Gerald would beg and I didn’t see the appeal. I didn’t mind waiting because I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
“It’s us, baby,” I tell her truthfully. I loved Kelsi, but it wasn’t like this with us.
It was young love. We were fumbling through our emotions, still finding ourselves.
We weren’t connected in the way Nevaeh and I are.
She isn’t just my wife, she’s my other half.
And there’s no way in hell I’m going to lose her.