38. Braxton
Chapter 38
Braxton
I f this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up from it. Jemma’s here … in our room, and about to spend the night.
I can’t even tell you how many times I wished for this exact moment, but now that it’s here, I’m suddenly in two minds. I want this with every fibre of my being, but I’m worried that it’s too much, too soon for her.
For me, it’s been a long time coming … too long . I’ve been suppressing that aching need for my wife from the moment I found out she’d been in an accident. I doubted if I’d ever get to be with her like this again. Yet here we are.
Begrudgingly, I pull out of the kiss. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I repeat.
I don’t know if my battered heart can handle another rejection, but I need to know she’s all in before this goes any further.
“I’m sure … a gazillion percent sure. Please don’t stop,” she murmurs, dragging my mouth back to hers.
It’s crazy how life works sometimes. Yesterday I was in the pits of hell, doubting everything. Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t give up on winning her back, because my life without her is unimaginable. But there were brief moments when I contemplated doing just that.
I was tired and disillusioned.
After I sent the eighteenth letter and nothing between us changed, I went into a downward spiral. It’s the first time since this nightmare started that I’d truly lost hope in us and everything we once shared.
That shining light that had begun to burn so brightly in the weeks prior was suddenly replaced by a dark and gloomy cloud that shrouded every part of me.
That’s why Lucas took me out for drinks last night. He could see it as well. I was a fucking mess. Broken beyond repair, or so I thought.
The final letter I slid under Jemma’s front door on the way home from the pub was a part of me giving up on the pipe dream that we’d once again be together as husband and wife. I never expected it would lead to this. I’m not complaining though; I’m rejoicing.
Jemma reaches for the hem of my T-shirt, fisting it in her hands and dragging it up my body. I lift my arms and draw back long enough for her to remove it altogether.
Even though I usually take the lead in the bedroom, I’m happy for her to control the pace. We’ve done this too many times to count, but this is all new to her now.
I need to be gentle.
Not just with her, but with her battered body.
Once my shirt is removed, I slide her jacket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor as I back her into the wall.
Burying my fingers in her hair, so I can tilt her head back slightly, I deepen the kiss. Her hands move from my waist down to my arse in an attempt to drag me closer.
Taking the hint, I lightly press my torso against hers, savouring her warmth.
We stay like this—making out like a couple of teenagers—for the longest time. My cock is so hard it hurts, but I’ll wait for Jemma to give me a sign she’s ready for more before taking things to the next level.
Eventually, we come up for air, and that is when she asks, “Do we always kiss for this long before getting to the good stuff?”
I rest my forehead against hers and chuckle. “No.”
The nineteen-year-old inexperienced me would probably have his hand down the front of her pants, clumsily trying to bring her to orgasm with his fingers by now.
Braxton the man would have her stripped naked and he’d be buried balls deep, right here against the wall. He’d be pounding into that luscious body of hers, and she’d be loving every second of it.
“I love the way you kiss me, but …”
“I’m trying to follow your lead. I don’t want to rush you.”
“Don’t,” she says. “Please don’t do that. I want you to be normal with me … just like it used to be.”
“I don’t want to scare you.” It’s like my entire future is on the line here, and I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck this up.
“You won’t,” she reassures me, tenderly skimming her hand down the side of my face. “Besides, I want to see if you live up to all the hype.”
Despite feeling slightly anxious inside, I bark out a laugh. “Is that so?” I retort.
When she captures her plump bottom lip between her teeth and nods her head, my restraint snaps. Before I even realise what I’m doing, I’ve scooped her into my arms and deposited her on the bed.
I stand to my full height and gaze down at her beautifully flushed cheeks as my cock strains painfully behind the fabric of my sweats.
“Are you ready to have your world rocked, beautiful?” I ask, with all the bravado the old me once held.
Her memory loss has changed me as well. I never would’ve thought twice about anything when it came to us, but things aren’t what they used to be. Once, there were no boundaries in the bedroom. She was up for anything I dished out. But now we’re both trying to find our new normal.
I remain still, contemplating everything when she arches one of her perfectly sculptured eyebrows. “Are you going to put your money where your mouth is? Or just stand there and gawk at me?”
I grin smugly as I lean down and place my flattened palms on the mattress either side of her body, caging her in. This is the sassy, fun-loving Jemma I’ve missed.
My face is mere inches from hers when I declare, “Challenge accepted, sweetheart.”
With that, I snap out of my haze so I can give her what she wants. The old Braxton … no holds barred. The man who was always so sure of himself—the person she doesn’t remember.
I dip my face down to brush my lips with hers, sliding my hands underneath her shoulders at the same time, so I can lift her into a sitting position as I straighten.
“Arms up,” I order.
She complies like the good, obedient woman I know her to be. The second I tug her pyjama top over her head, I groan when her bare, perky breasts come into view. She’s always had the most spectacular tits.
A growl rises in the back of my throat as the pads of both thumbs reach out to gently skate over each hardened peak, and when she tilts her head back and moans, precum leaks from my dick.
My eyes flicker back to her pretty face, and I can already sense her uneasiness. It’s because of the scars that now mar her once flawless skin. I’ll have plenty of time going forward to reassure her she’s perfection in my eyes, even with these new imperfections.
I don’t want her to let them hold her hostage. They are wounds that are now closed … tattoos of her triumph. They will never go away, but to me, they are a sign of her strength.
I’d never want to relive her accident, or anything we’ve been through since, but those marks tell a story. They are proof she survived, and for this reason alone, I’ll forever be grateful for them.
I gently lay her back as my lips move to pepper kisses across her jawline and down her slender neck. When they skate over her collarbone, heading south, my mouth salivates.
My hands come up to join the fun, palming each breast as I suck one of her taut nipples between my teeth, lightly biting down. She always loved it when I did that to her.
“Braxton,” she whimpers, threading her fingers into my hair and lightly tugging on the short strands.
I lavish my attention in that area until she’s a withering mess beneath me. When I continue my descent down her body, I make a conscious effort to ignore the numerous jagged marks. It’s my first time seeing them.
Some are small, some not so much. They’re all confined to the right side of her body and the sight makes my heart constrict in my chest. It only confirms how lucky we are to still have her here with us.
My tongue swirls around her belly button before dipping inside, and it garners another moan. My cock is throbbing, but I ignore it. This is about her, not me.
When I drop to my knees and lick a line along her skin, just above the waistband of her jeans, she widens her legs. She’s desperate for my touch, that much I know, but dragging this out will make it all the sweeter in the end, for both of us.
My eyes meet hers as I pop the button on her jeans and the desire reflected back at me spurs me on. I’ve missed this look on her.
I drag down the zipper next and notice she still has her sleep shorts underneath. Someone left the house in a hurry.
My attention remains on her beautiful face as my fingers grasp the waistband, dragging her underwear, shorts, and jeans down her long legs all at once.
As soon as she’s free from her clothes, I hook my hands under her knees and spread her wide. My gaze flickers down to the junction between her thighs, and when my eyes move back to her face, I see another sweet blush rising on her cheeks.
This shy and vulnerable Jemma is new. I’m confident in time, she’ll realise she doesn’t need to be self-conscious around me.
With my eyes still locked on hers, I lean down and place open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her thigh before moving to the other side. I can feel her legs trembling in my hands, but as soon as I lick a path up to her clit, circling it with my tongue, her audible moans echo around the room.
I’ve missed her taste, her scent … her.
It doesn’t take long for her to relax back into the mattress. Her hands are now fisted in the bedsheets and she keeps bucking her pelvis toward my face, so I know she’s enjoying this.
I manoeuvre her legs, resting a foot on each of my shoulders, to free up my hands. I groan against her sensitive flesh as soon as I dip a finger inside her and feel how wet she is for me.
“Braxton,” she whimpers as I add a second digit, pushing in knuckles deep. Within moments, she’s falling over the edge.
I growl when I feel her inner muscles contracting around my fingers. As desperate as I am to be inside her, I don’t stop until I’ve drained every ounce of pleasure from her body.
Her feet drop to the floor in a sedated bliss once I’ve finished, and only then do I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and stand.
“How’d I do?” I ask, looking down at her with a smug grin.
“I … no words ,” she pants as a lazy smile curves her lips.
“The fun has only just begun, sweetheart,” I state, lifting her from the edge of the bed and moving her into the centre. “I’m not done with you yet.”
I’ll never be done with her.
The smile on her face grows as her eyes rake from my chest down to my abs before pausing at the massive tent in my pants. “I see the Boy Scout in you is still very much alive.”
“My torch goes with me everywhere… I never leave home without it,” I retort and we both laugh.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
I hook my thumbs in my waistband, quickly rectifying that.
Her eyes slightly widen, and I chuckle as I move onto the bed, crawling in her direction.
It’s only then that I realise I don’t have any protection. I doubt she’s still taking the pill, but I could be wrong.
Disappointment consumes me.
“I don’t have any condoms,” I tell her, wincing slightly. We haven’t used them in years.
“It’s okay.”
“Are you still on the pill?”
“No,” she replies with a slight shake of her head.
Shit.
Scooting off the bed, I bend to reach for my pants. “Where are you going?” she asks.
“To see if I can find a twenty-four-hour chemist.” I’ll drive around town and search for somewhere that’s open, but I don’t like my chances this time of morning.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, she bolts upright and reaches for my arm. “Why? I thought we were going to try for a baby.”
My eyebrows jump so high they almost reach my hairline. “Straight away?”
Jemma lifts one shoulder. “I’m sure it will take more than one time, but …”
I drop my pants to the floor and rejoin her on the bed. Having a child with her is something I’ve yearned for, but even I know it’s way too soon for that. We need time. It is such a huge commitment and I want to make sure she’s ready before I even consider going there with her.
“It’s late. Why don’t we get some sleep,” I say. “I can head out first thing in the morning and buy some.”
“No.” She rolls on her side, facing me. “Please, Braxton.”
“We don’t need to rush this, Jem. We have the rest of our lives.” I hope.
“It’s been months. I need this … you need this . Are you going to make me beg?”
When she pouts her pretty lips, I groan. “Those puppy dog eyes and that pouty mouth have always been my weakness,” I admit, nipping at her bottom lip as I drag her body closer.
Her pout morphs into a cheeky grin. “That’s good to know. I will file that information away to use again in the future.”
The future. Those words hold so much promise.
“I don’t doubt that,” I say, barking out a laugh. The Jemma before the accident used that to her advantage whenever she could.
“So, it’s a yes, then. We’re doing this?”
“I suppose. I can always pull out.” It’s not a sure-fire solution, but it’s our safest one.
Jemma’s mouth opens, to protest I presume, so I cut her impending words off with a kiss. That’s enough talking. I have more important things on my agenda, like making love to my wife.
The kiss doesn’t take long to become scorching, and our movements are so desperate that our teeth occasionally clink together. I can’t seem to get close enough. If I could climb inside this woman, I would.
My fingers skate down her side and over the curve of her hip before settling between her legs. Like the greedy girl she once was, she instantly widens them, giving me better access.
She’s soaked and more than ready for me, but I still take a few minutes to work her over before manoeuvring myself between her parted legs.
I push up onto my elbows, relieving her of my weight. My gaze meets hers, and although I’m still feeling unsure about this, when she reaches up to cup my jaw and says, “I love you, Brax,” all my resolve crumbles.
My eyes immediately clench shut as my forehead rests against her shoulder. A lump the size of a golf ball has now formed in the back of my throat, and I’m afraid I might do something stupid, and very unmanly, like weep.
“Shit, Jem,” I mutter, but when my voice cracks, I give myself away.
Trying my best to ignore everything I’m feeling, I grasp hold of my dick, stroking it a few times before lining myself up. I need the distraction. The last thing I want is to succumb to the kaleidoscope of emotions that are now simmering to the surface.
The moment I slide the tip inside her sweet heaven, a strangled noise bubbles in the back of my throat.
Burying my face in the crook of her neck, I roll my hips forward, thrusting to the hilt. I pause briefly, basking in the knowledge that this nightmare chapter in our lives may finally be closing.
She’s here, she loves me, and the darkness that’s enveloped me for far too long fades away. That tiny flicker inside—the one that never gave up—is now burning so brightly it fills my entire body with warmth.
I’m home.
I begin rocking my hips and Jemma’s legs encircle my waist. The heels of her feet dig into my arse cheeks, drawing me closer, and it’s just like old times.
It limits my movements, making my thrusts languid and short, but I’m okay with that. I need to take things slow if I want this to last.
“Oh, god, Braxton,” she mewls, pushing her head back into the pillow and arching her spine off the bed. “You feel so good.”
She feels good too. Better than good. She feels like she’s mine again.
“Love me like you used to,” she whispers. “How you did in your letters and my dream. With the heat of a thousand suns. I want to feel it in the depths of my soul.”
Drawing back, I drive straight back in. “I love you, Jem,” I grunt against her skin. “So damn much.”
That heavy weight that has been crushing down on my chest since the accident is no longer there. I feel lighter than I have in a very long time.
After the storm comes calm.