CHAPTER SIX
KENNEDY LINCOLN (NéE CALDWELL)
The scent of lavender floats in the air, a marked contrast from the cinnamon that has been surrounding me from the moment Wyatt and I arrived in Austria. Wandering through the hotel suite, I find my husband in the bathroom kneeling beside the bathtub.
“What are you doing?” I ask, although it's obvious with the water filling the white porcelain.
“Drawing you a bath. You pushed too hard today.”
I roll my eyes at his soft reprimand, though secretly I’m pleased he cares so much.
And he's not wrong.
We spent the day walking around Vienna, exploring the holiday market and a few touristy attractions. I've never had so many steps accounted for on my tracker than this trip, and today has been the highest yet.
Something my back and feet definitely don't appreciate.
“We took breaks,” I argue.
“Not enough of them,” Wyatt counters with a dark brow raised.
I sigh. “Not enough of them.”
With my spina bifida and scoliosis, chronic back pain is a way of life, but I could have done better at preventing more pain than usual by pacing myself today.
Though it's hard because I want to get in as much as I can before Wyatt and I head back to Suitor’s Crossing for Christmas.
“If we don't get to everything this round, we can come back with Tristan in tow.”
“Are you secretly a mind reader?” I tease. “I was just thinking about not wanting to miss anything on this trip.”
“No mindreading. I just know you.” He dries off his hands after testing the heat of the water and stands. “Everything is ready for you now.”
“Will you be joining me?” I ask as I slip out of my clothes. Wool socks. Fleece-lined leggings. Cozy warmth is the theme of my wardrobe for this trip.
“If you'll have me.” He grins and reaches for the buttons on his shirt as I nod. Wyatt steps into the tub first, then carefully guides me down so my back rests against his chest.
After a few minutes of quiet and letting the heat of the water soak in, I let out a heavy breath. “I miss Tristan.”
Our three-year-old son is enjoying an extended play date with his cousin Rachel, and while I appreciate a romantic couples-only getaway, this is the longest I've been away from him since he was born.
“Me too. But he's fine. Soren and Diana are taking good care of him.” Wyatt soaps up his hands before massaging my shoulders, slowly working his way down my aching muscles.
“I know…” He kneads a particularly sore spot, and I moan. “I swear you get better at that every time.
“I probably do. Practice makes perfect, after all.”
I hum in my throat in agreement, allowing my mind to drift. “Though you didn't need that much practice, did you? Remember the first time you gave me a back massage?”
“The day we officially met,” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yep, and it was pretty relaxing then, too… Considering you were practically a stranger.” I laugh.
“A stranger in love with you.”
“Thanks to Sherry.”
“Oh, god, Sherry. She still glares at me any time our paths cross in town.”
“At least she acknowledges you.” I lightly splash water on his exposed knee. “She always turns the other way or pretends I don't exist whenever we bump into each other.”
“You'd think she'd be over what happened between you and Chris considering he's engaged to someone else now.”
“No one holds a grudge like Sherry,” I say breathlessly, distracted by Wyatt’s hard cock sliding between my ass cheeks. I squirm in his lap, causing the water to splash against the sides of the tub.
“Is my girl thinking naughty thoughts?” he growls.
“Maybe…”
His roughened palms glide upward to hold my breasts. His thumbs tweak the nipples. “You shouldn't be exerting yourself.”
Reaching back, I brace a hand on the back of his head and rock against his firm body.
“Well, I've got a husband, haven't I? Perhaps he can do all the work.”
“Hmm… Maybe he can.” One of his hands dips below the water and slips between my parted thighs. “You sexy little tease. This bath was meant to relax you, not act as foreplay.”
“I find orgasms very relaxing,” I taunt.
He releases my breast long enough to guide my mouth to his for a scorching kiss, and I moan at the possessive parry and thrust of his tongue.
Blunt-tipped fingers dive into my pussy, and I clench around the thick digits before he replaces his fingers with his cock. Wyatt swallows my gasp.
“Hang on, pretty girl.” He uses his knees to spread my legs wider, and more water gushes over the porcelain lip onto the tile. We’re making a mess. A wet, slippery mess.
And I’ve never felt more alive.
The lights of Vienna create a colorful glow through the tall windows. Lavender and Wyatt’s spicy cologne tickle my nose. And with each powerful thrust of his cock, a bond of love and pleasure tangle together—never to be broken.