Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Scott
W ynter and I dance around our attraction for the next three days. She remembers small details but obviously not the big one—me. Yesterday, she had a memory of taking photos, so her parents admitted that she is the local photographer who took the photos in the great room.
“Me? I took those?” she had asked as she beamed. “I must have an expensive camera.”
“You do. If you want it, I’ll grab from our… your house,” I said, almost making a mistake.
“Yes, please. Or maybe Drake could bring it when he comes. I asked Mom to tell him to come over tomorrow if he’s feeling up to it.”
I lie awake in the guest room in the middle of the night and hear my name on repeat.
“Scott. Scott.” I’m probably hearing what I want to hear… my name come out of Wynter’s mouth. Then I hear a grunt. Jerking the covers from my body, I pad quietly ou t of my room and tap on her door, hearing my name once again. I turn the knob slowly, trying not to make noise.
Peeking in, she’s asleep and dreaming about me. I don’t want to wake her, but then I see her fingers swirling her nipples under the sheet. She’s having a sexual dream about me and as much as this arouses me, I’d rather her memory return of our sex life.
Whether it’s a memory or a dream, it’s good news. She’s as attracted to me now as she’s always been.
The sheets fall as she pulls on her nipples harder, and one hand sinks between her legs. God, I’m a peeping Tom. I know I should leave, but I’ve seen her get herself off hundreds of times. Sometimes, we do it together. Just watch each other and talk dirty. She instructs me, and I do the same for her.
I feel myself hardening as her mouth parts, and she licks her lips. “Yes, more, more.”
It’s a good thing her parents are downstairs on the other side of the house because I step inside and stroke myself as I watch her. Her head flings off the bed. “Oh God, kiss me. I want to taste.”
Fuck, I miss tasting her. It’s been a week since I last buried my head between her thighs. I want to be in her dream so damn bad. It doesn’t take long for an orgasm to slice through me, and I’m creaming all over my hand. I’m not saying it’s a bad way to start my day, but I wish she knew how much I want to taste her and make her happy in every way.
Wynter pulls her hand from under the sheets, and her body relaxes. She’s only ever been able to give hers elf little orgasms and leaves the heavy lifting to me.
“Sweet dreams, wild girl,” I mutter under my breath and head to the bathroom to shower. When I come out, I knock on her door, and she says, “Come in.”
“I thought I would grab the Gator and your camera. You can take photos around the farm.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“I keep telling you that I’m fun.”
With a brief sugary smile, she admits, “I’m beginning to believe you.”
“Nancy is coming this morning to change your dressing and give you a shower. Or I can do it if you want,” I joke, but not really. I have washed Wynter from head to toe hundreds of times. Mainly after shower sex but still.
She hurls a pillow at me. “In your dreams.”
“Or maybe in yours.”
Her face flushes, as I assume she recalls her dream from an hour ago.
An hour later, I come back with her camera and our Gator, a recreational utility vehicle. Nancy is standing on the porch, talking with Wynter and her parents. Wynter’s hair is in a ponytail with bouncy curls. She looks fucking amazing. She stands, leaning on the porch rail with her pink cast.
Nancy catches me before she leaves. “She seems to be gaining her memories. She’s scheduled with a psychologist next week, but it’s up to you if you think she’ll need it by then. She hasn’t figured out you’re her husband?”
I shake my head, “No, but she’s having dreams about me.” I wiggle my eyebrows. “So, I’m sure she’ll know who I am soon.”
Unhooking the heavy du ty tie-down straps, I release the Gator, roll it down the ramp from my truck bed, and jog up to the steps. “You ready?”
“Can’t wait. Be back soon,” she says, waving at her parents.
I hoist her onto my back, carrying her to the Gator. When I set her down, she notices her camera and immediately fiddles with it. She hasn’t forgotten how to change or adjust lenses. I downloaded her photos from it because before the photos she took the day of the accident, there were pregnancy pictures of us that she had Vanessa take with her camera. We’re kissing, hugging, and I’m feeling her stomach.
Wynter immediately pulls the camera to her eye and takes a photo of me.
“Not me… landscape.”
We ride through her parents’ ten-acre farm, and with each bump jostling her around, I slow down. She gives me an eye roll and frown as we pull up to the creek’s edge. It’s always been one of our spots. I help her out, and she leans on me to walk without putting pressure on her broken leg. “You smell good.” She appears surprised, looking at me with wide eyes.
“Do I usually smell bad?”
“Like moldy cheese.” I raise my eyebrows, looking down my shoulder at her. Those hazel eyes peer up at me as she grins. “Kidding. The best way to describe the way your smell is fresh.”
“Good to know. Lean against this tree while I get the blanket.” I spread the blanket out and set the small Kentucky Stallions cooler on the edge. “Do you want to sit, o r do you want to walk around to take photos?”
“Let’s sit, and we’ll see what catches my eye.”
Her legs are long for her height, and they stretch out in front of her. She’s repainted her toes to blue. “When did you change your toenail polish?”
Wynter wiggles her toes in the cast. “It seems we missed the national championship game while I was in the hospital. Even though we lost to those who will remain unmentioned, I wanted to show my state basketball pride.. See?” Her little toes have little crystals in a basketball design. “Vanessa did it for me.”
“I was listening to the Final Four game on the way home from Lexington when I was called by search and rescue. I… never thought you would be the person Bravo and I were searching for. It was surreal when I found you. Devastating, actually.” I pick up a few blades of grass, twisting them around my finger, pulling them apart, and throwing them into the springtime wind. “And once you were in the hospital, I would have completely forgotten if it hadn’t been on in the hospital waiting rooms.”
She leans on my arm, caressing me like I’m the one who needs comforting. Inside, she knows we belong together. Everything is so easy between us. But just like our first eight years, she’s stubborn, not wanting to admit it to herself. Being an only child, she was the center of attention, and that didn’t change in our friend group. She was always the one wanting to push boundaries. Mark, Vanessa, and Jess weren’t far behind, while Beau and I attempted to keep us out of jail and safe. I’m not saying we didn’t participate; we did. But we made sure phones were charged, and we had service.
“I’m sorry I scare d you. Ooh, look at that butterfly.”
She pulls the camera to her eye, focusing on the grayish insect. The camera shutter clicks with precision several times in a row. The sound is sharp followed by a gentle, echoing whir, but what I notice is the way her lips tip into a smile behind the large piece of equipment.
Resting the camera in her lap, she switches to view the photos and shows me. Wynter has captured its wings in mid-flutter, then extended all the way. “It’s beautiful—teal, gray and orange. I never think of a butterfly in these colors.”
“I remember loving nature. I don’t know what my house looks like, but I imagine it reflects the colors of the outdoors. This butterfly’s colors combined with grays and blacks is calming.”
I nod because she always says, “Let’s bring the outside in.” We have lots of plants inside and out. Once we found out we were having a baby, we went straight to a local greenhouse and bought more so she would be breathing the cleanest air possible.
“Hey, let’s get in the creek,” she says.
“Wynter, we can’t get your cast wet.”
She looks around and back at the Gator. “Do you have a trash bag in there?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, tie me up baby,” she squeals in excitement.
Tying her up is definitely on my to-do list.
I think back to our honeymoon. We were in a luxurious hut style resort, and the furnishings were the finest silk. Wynter took the scissors from my shaving kit and proceeded to cut strips of the satin sheets. It was the first time we experimented with being tied up. She was perched on the bed on her knees in some barely there lingerie holding out two purple strips of silk and said, “Tie me up baby.”
I tied her wrists together and placed her arms above her head while I sucked on the skin of her neck and collarbone. By the time I reached her breasts, she writhed beneath me. Her center dripping with need as I moved lower. I pushed her knees wide like a butterfly and ripped the lace strip. Wet and begging, I licked and suck between the apex of her legs until she screamed loud enough that the monkeys in the trees outside chittered and birds flocked from the trees.
“Scott?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I get up and retrieve the garbage bag from the roll in the glove compartment.
“What were you thinking about?”
I slip her leg into the tall white kitchen bag and cinch it closed, tying it at her knee. She needs to feel normal. And this is something we did together all the time. We sit on a large smooth rock and put our feet into the creek.
She stares at her feet, then takes pictures of them. Like a magnet, my foot grazes hers. With every accidental brush of our feet, the pull is greater. She scoots her hand into mine, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. A shiver bolts up my spine, and uncertainty tangos in my stomach. I want and need her so badly, but I can’t compromise her health and healing.
“Wyn.” I tilt her chin to me. Words falter on my lips.
“I know it’s wrong, but I want to kiss you. Your lips are what I need to feel alive again. To feel normal.”
Our foreheads press against each other, and I adjust my body so that I’m facing her. My fingers skim her collarbone and settle on the nape of her neck. I peer into the windows of her soul, knowing she feels like we belong together, b ut she doesn’t remember it. My nose brushes against hers as our mouths are only millimeters apart. Her lips tremble slightly as I sweep my lips against hers, but then I stop.
“It’s not wrong.”
But it is when she thinks she’s married to Drake.