Chapter 3
THREE
Avery
I was stepping out of the bath by the time my tall, dark, and so-handsome-it-was-beyond-me-at-times man walked into the master suite.
Steam still curled around me from the bathroom, scented with lavender oils I’d poured into the tub.
My mind had finally begun to shift from the heaviness of Claire’s situation to the quieter ache of how much I’d missed my family tonight.
The bath and wine helped me peel away the weight.
Still, the guilt lingered. I always wondered if I was doing enough, if offering women like Claire a safe place to land ever truly counted.
I couldn’t save her, not completely, but maybe I could be a voice, a helping hand, or even just a presence when she needed one most. Hopefully, the counselors at Saint John’s, where she’d been taken, would encourage her to step toward saving herself.
That was something I couldn’t do for her.
I exhaled and tried to let it go. Because now, standing in the doorway, was my husband—hungry green eyes locked on me, dark hair mussed from his day, and a grin so devilish it promised trouble.
Looking at him, I remembered there was still light in my world.
I smiled back, then let my towel drop and tugged my hair loose from its twist. His eyebrow arched, slow and deliberate, and my body reacted like he’d flipped a switch.
“You,” he said, voice deep as he pushed off the doorframe, “are going to feel exactly how much I love you and have missed you this past week.” In one move, he scooped me up and slung me over his shoulder.
I squealed, part laugh, part thrill. It didn’t matter that we’d made love last night—my body and my heart had been waiting for this all week. “Where are you taking me tonight, Mr. Mitchell?” I teased, swatting his firm ass as he carried me across the suite.
“Well, now that your squeal probably woke the girls, we’ll have to get creative.”
I laughed louder. “You know they love to knock just to ruin our fun.”
“I know,” he said in that man-on-a-mission tone that always made me melt. “We did the garage last time, didn’t we?”
“There’s still a dent in the Rover’s hood, yes,” I admitted, grinning at the memory. Our creativity left its marks, literally.
“Kind of makes me want to relive the moment that caused the dent,” he said, his laugh low in his throat as he carried me up another flight of stairs. Attic or rooftop—either way, he was determined.
“Attic sex?” I teased, arching a brow.
“Not sure I want cobwebs up my ass,” he muttered, finally setting me down.
I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. “Damn, I missed you.”
His mouth covered my breast before I could even catch my breath, sending sparks through me. My fingers worked at his belt, eager and needy. He groaned, pressing me into the wall, lips trailing down my chest, across my throat, up to my jaw.
“I don’t give a shit about cobwebs,” he growled, sliding his fingers into me and hitting my sweet spot without hesitation. Pleasure made me gasp, my body arching into him.
“It’s either under the stars or in the attic. Where do you want me?” he murmured against my shoulder.
“I don’t give a shit,” I panted. “I just want you.”
The next thing I knew, he had me in the attic.
The air smelled faintly of cedar and dust. Boxes towered, stacked with baby furniture, old toys, and other forgotten bits of our life.
My eyes landed on a rocking chair I’d sworn to donate years ago.
It had been at least a year since I’d set foot up here.
“We really need to go through this place,” I muttered, half horrified and half distracted by Jim’s mouth on my skin.
He caught my tone instantly, smirked, and yanked a blanket from a box. “Later,” he said, laying me down. And then there was no space for thought, just his hands, his mouth, and my body remembering how to unravel for him.
His tongue teased, his lips lingered, his fingers played me like he’d been starved for months instead of days. I bucked into him, gripping his hair, and still my eyes strayed stupidly to a tower of holiday boxes.
Focus, Avery.
For the first time ever, the thrill of Halloween decorations pulled at me while Jim’s mouth worked its magic.
“I need more,” I begged, breathless.
“You’ll get it, baby. Trust me.”
“No—now,” I demanded.
He moaned against me, switching tongue for fingers, deliberately drawing it out. Normally, I adored his patience. Tonight? The boxes were winning, and I hated it.
I yanked his hair until his gaze locked with mine. “I’m not going to come this way. I need you inside me.”
His brows knit. “You never go straight for that. You want it over quick?”
“Yes. Well, no.” I glanced at his freed length. “Wait. Are you losing your hard-on?”
He sighed, exasperated. “Hard to stay in the zone when my wife is mentally cataloging storage bins.”
“We’re in the attic.”
“So? We’ve done it in the basement before, too, and you managed to forego taking inventory of our cleaning supplies.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
My eyes landed on a box marked Halloween 2022.
“Christ,” he muttered, following my gaze. “Please tell me you’re not planning centerpieces right now.”
“I need you to fuck me, so I won’t,” I chuckled.
I had to love marriage and sometimes the interruptions didn’t come from kids or phones. Sometimes they came in the form of cobwebs and holiday boxes — and my OCD.
He froze for a moment as he slipped into his typical Jim-fixes-everything-with-an-executive-decision mode, and then I went down on him. I was desperate, but Jim pulled me back up to bring us face-to-face.
“Well, that’s a first?” I laughed. “Why are we so off tonight? Now, I can’t give you a blow—”
“Av,” he interrupted me, still smiling, “I’m not risking my special guy while you’re mentally hanging fake bats. You’re right, the only way you’ll stop thinking about those boxes is if I’m inside you.”
“Exactly. Then put me against the wall and fuck this out of my mind.”
His grin was my answer. He lifted me, kissed me like he owned me, and thrust deep as my back hit the rough wall.
The particle board scraped, but his rhythm burned hotter.
“Fuck yes,” I moaned, circling my clit as he drove harder.
“I missed this,” he growled, lips closing over my breast.
“Me too,” I breathed, nails in his hair, body clinging to his.
Our rhythm turned frantic. Pulse matched pulse.
“We’re doing this all night,” he swore.
“Yes. Jim. Fuck. I’m coming!”
He slammed deeper, kissed me harder, and we shattered together.
“Agh!” I shrieked when a sharp stab lit my backside.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Again. Shit, yes…”
“Jim, NO!” I yelped, realizing my ass had landed on a nail. “Jim. Jim!” I gasped, the pain burning.
“What’s wrong?”
“You literally just nailed my ass,” I cried, half laughing, half wincing.
I turned around after he pulled out of me and stepped back to figure out what the hell just stopped the climax he was about to have.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, spotting it. “The builders are dead men.”
“What’s going on up here?” Addy’s voice floated in.
Panic shot through me.
We scrambled for blankets. Of course, they were from Addy’s baby box. So much for the nostalgic things we wanted our daughter to hand down to her children one day.
“Addy, we’re fine. Go downstairs. We’ll be there in a minute,” Jim said, voice stern.
She snorted. “Maybe keep it down, you horny old people.”
“Addy, that’s not what—” I started.
“Dad’s pants are over here,” she chimed.
“I literally took a nail in my ass to avoid this exact moment,” I muttered.
“What?” Addy pressed.
My eyes darted to the Halloween boxes. “We were trying on Halloween costumes and my ass landed on a nail,” I said, hoping to salvage our dignity.
“Right,” she said with a laugh.
“Just head to bed, kid,” Jim took control. “We’re going to have to run down to the ER and get mom a tetanus shot,” he said, arching a brow at me. “Let’s head to the hospital and dodge our teenager’s commentary.”
“Okay,” she answered, still not believing our half-lie.
“Perfect plan.” I sighed. “I’ll see if Bree and Alex can sit with the girls.”
“Addy will be fine here. I’ll alert security to up their watch while we’re gone tonight.”
So much for reunion sex, night two. A nail had claimed me before Jim did.
Addy would never let us live it down, either.
Still, at least the excuse was believable.
I wasn’t screaming in ecstasy; I was screaming because of a contractor’s mistake.
If it came to it, Jim could even throw on his old wizard costume from one of these boxes to back up our story.
Honestly, who gave a damn, anyway? The chaos made it even more fun. I might’ve hurt like hell, but it made for one hell of a story. I just had to make sure that story didn’t involve tetanus.