Chapter 22 #2
I finished squeezing the bag with the spoon, then threw it into the trash and carried the mug in both hands as I made my way into the living room.
The rugs Nash originally bought in an effort to keep me from slipping had been thrown out after we realized they were tripping hazards, and the floors were being prepped for full carpet.
Nash was lounging on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table, and he made grabby hands at me as I started to sit.
It was far too easy to slip into his arms and nestle against his side. He was still tender from the accident, but his bruising was no longer a sunset. Now it was mottled, fading green across his chest, punctuated by the chest tube scar from where they’d had to inflate his lung.
“How are you?”
I frowned up at him. “Is that rhetorical, literal, or—”
He snorted and brushed his fingers through my hair. “Just checking in, sweetheart.”
I tried not to shiver, but fuck, I loved when he called me that. “I’m okay. I think it’s a good day so far.” I always added so far. It allowed me to set my expectations and not feel too gutted if things took a turn.
He nodded, biting his lip. He clearly had something to say, but I wasn’t sure what. It was easy to be patient with him. I’d started learning that the one thing he needed more than anything was for people to wait. To let him work out what he wanted to say.
“I love you.”
I knew he did, but he hadn’t said the words since that afternoon at the hospital, and a tiny piece of me was starting to wonder if he regretted saying them. My whole body softened. “I love you too.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “I know we haven’t talked much—”
“I didn’t want to upset you or make your stress flare worse.” He took my hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing my palm. “I know your brain fog and seizures were bad there for a while, and I didn’t want to make it bad again.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that talking about it all would have made it better. He was trying his hardest. “I’m happy to talk now if you want.”
The breath he let out trembled on the exhale as he shifted himself to the side as far as his leg would allow, and he looked down at me. “We’re married.”
“Yes…”
“But do you want to be?”
I blinked. “Do you?”
He snorted and ran his thumb over the cut of my jaw. “Forest, please don’t deflect. I need to know.”
Bowing my head, I took a fortifying breath, then nodded. “Yeah. But I’m okay if you don’t. I mean, we skipped so many steps, and I know that’s probably making it harder, but—”
“I want to be married to you. I want to skip the steps. The moment I saw you,” he said, his tone fierce, “you felt like home. I had no idea what to do with those feelings, and I tried to run from them, but I couldn’t.
And then I saw an opportunity, and I feel like such a selfish fucking bastard for taking it.
Even if marrying you meant helping you, it was entirely self-serving. ”
I burst into laughter, unable to help it. Leaning forward, I set my tea on the table, then swung my leg over him, straddling his hips. I didn’t let him take too much weight, but I did lean forward and kiss him, slow, deep, and thorough.
He groaned, and I caught the sound on my tongue, swallowing it down.
“This is a good answer,” he said when I pulled back.
“I love what we have. I don’t care that none of it is traditional. I don’t want to separate. I don’t want to do it like everyone else does. I like it our way.”
“Our way,” he repeated. His hands closed around my hips, and I could feel him growing hard under me. We hadn’t fooled around since before his injury, but my cock was definitely interested now. I thrust my hips against his, letting him feel it. “Oh? You sure?” he asked.
“Only if you’re up for it.”
His heated gaze met mine. “We’ll have to go slow and careful, but I want this. I want you. I’ve been dreaming about it.”
My throat felt thick with want. “I love you, Nash. I’ve been in love with you for a while, and I know I already told you that, but I need you to hear it when we’re not riding an adrenaline high from the hospital.”
His eyes darkened and he pulled me close, kissing me again. “I might need to hear that a few more times, just to drive it home.”
Rocking my hips against him again, I nodded and kissed him deeper. “As many times as you need. As many times as you want.”
“Fuck,” he gasped. His fingers trembled as he worked at my sweats until he got them down past my hips. My cock sprang free, leaking at the tip as he stroked me with a firm, heavy touch, just the way I liked.
Shuffling back, I yanked at the elastic waistband of his own joggers until his cock was poking through the slit in his boxers. I lifted, hovering over his thighs as I rocked my dick against his.
“Fuck. Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “I’m not going to last.”
“I don’t want you to last. I want you to show me how much you want me.
I want to see you lose it when I touch you.
I want you to make a fucking mess of me.
” I hadn’t been able to do this yet. I’d never been strong enough, but right now, I was.
I closed my hand around us both and squeezed. “Fuck my cock.”
He wasn’t used to hearing those words from my lips, and his face bloomed red, his dick kicking against my hand as he began to use my body to thrust against his. He sped up his motions as I picked up speed, and I could feel pleasure sparking under my skin like fireworks.
“Baby, baby. Oh god.” His voice was thready and weak.
I tried to tighten my grip, but my fingers were starting to lose control. The connection between my brain and limbs would always be difficult, but why did it have to be now?
Before I could ask, Nash’s hand closed around mine, and he caught my gaze, holding it as his grip tightened. “Together,” he murmured.
Heat raced up my spine. Where it might have felt like a failure before, now it felt like a triumph. I was strong on my own, but he filled in the little gaps when I needed him to. He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfect for me.
“Kiss me,” I begged.
His free hand curled around the back of my neck, and as his hand sped up mine, his tongue dipped into my mouth, matching the rhythm on our cocks. The edges of my vision went white and my breath stuttered as I felt myself reach the edge.
And between two heavy breaths, I let go. He caught my cry in his mouth, muffling it with his tongue, his arm moving until I felt his cock erupt. His cum pooled between us, the two of us making a mess, and I rocked into it until the last vestiges of my orgasm began to fade.
The sticky fluid didn’t feel good, but collapsing on his chest did. My limbs were weak, but my heart was beating strong, and I could feel his matching the pace of mine as we held each other.
“I want to get married again,” I told him.
He stiffened. “To me?”
I turned my head and bit his nipple hard enough to make him yelp. “Yes. To you.” Lifting my head, I met his gaze. “Our family deserves to be there to see it. And I want to write our own vows. I want this to be something for us. The right way.”
His hand lifted and curled around the side of my jaw, and he pulled me in for another kiss. “I think we should do it on the beach where we had our honeymoon.”
I knocked my forehead against his. It felt wrong to be this happy. It felt terrifying to know I was this safe. One wrong move, one wrong day, and I could lose it all. But as I lay there, held by Nash, feeling our hearts beating together, I realized all of it had been worth the risk.
Worth the pain.
Worth everything we went through to get here.
And I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.