Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Don’t ever hurt her feelings again, you son of a bitch.
“You can call me no matter where you are and I’ll come. That’s where I left off, right?”
She nodded.
Good. He loved knowing she remembered exactly what he’d said at the altar.
“Okay. Natalie Vos, I vow to hug you when you’re sad. Encourage you when you’re down. And take the blame for a fight if it means we don’t go to bed angry.”
“No way.” She snorted. “It doesn’t say that.”
He flipped the paper around and held it out, so she could see he was reciting the vows verbatim. “Read it and weep, princess.”
She glanced at the page, then studied her nails, trying and failing to hide a glimmer of interest. “Anything else?”
“Yeah.” He pressed a knee into the bed. Then another. Walking himself closer to her despite the growing stiffness in her shoulders. “If I ever make you cry, you get to give me a purple nurple. Says it right here in bold print.”
“I’m not crying.”
“You were close,” he said miserably. “I hated it.”
“Don’t come any closer. I’m not purple nurpling you.”
“Those are the vows.”
“You didn’t say them in front of God. They don’t count.”
“I just said them in front of a goddess. They count.” He threw aside the piece of paper and tackled her backward onto the bed in a bear hug that made him feel like crying. If he’d left, if he’d walked away after the fight, he wouldn’t have his arms around her right now and that would forever be the wrong choice. He needed to keep his arms around this woman come hell or high water.
When she sniffed a little, he reached for her hand, bringing it up between them.
Pressing her fingertips to his nipple.
“Make it count.” His wife didn’t need the reminder. She secured two knuckles around his nipple and twisted with nothing short of savagery until he yelped, discomfort shooting through his pec. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”
She twisted harder.
“Natalie! SHIT.”
Finally, she let go. And had the nerve to look innocent when he lifted his head to show her his incredulity. “You asked for it,” she said, blinking up at him. Smiling.
He’d made her smile. After a fight.
The bliss of that almost eclipsed his pain. Almost.
“I’m afraid to look down and see if my nipple is still there,” he choked out.
She yawned. “Male nipples don’t really serve a function anyway.”
They laughed and he held her tighter, turning them bodily onto their sides and molding himself around the perfect back of her. “That does it,” he growled into her neck, kissing her soft skin in between each word. “You have to sleep with me tonight. That’s your punishment for trying to kill me.”
“Oh my God.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “I had no idea I married such a big baby.”
“I’m probably bleeding,” he muttered, tucking his knees up behind hers, smiling when she snuggled him back. “We good, babe?” He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Please tell me we’re good.”
Little by little, the tension left her muscles until she was completely relaxed in his arms and his heart constricted in response. “We’re good, August.”
He believed her.
But he also believed his dick/gut and it was telling him they were far from out of the woods. New York was still on the horizon. Not to mention the investment from his CO he’d neglected to tell her about. And earlier, hadn’t she said I know that so many of your choices aren’t made to hurt me, even though they do? Whatever she was referring to, his eyes needed to be more open to it now. He’d do better.
Because he wanted to fall asleep holding her forever.
Chapter Twenty-One
A boom of thunder jolted Natalie’s entire body upright in bed, August’s heavy arm dropping from around her shoulders down into the sheets. Within seconds, that muscular limb was curling around her thigh, hoarse, unintelligible murmurs coming from her husband. No doubt about it, the man was beautiful when he slept. A big, cozy brute with obvious morning wood. She’d expect nothing less—
Another roll of thunder seemed to shake the entire house. With a gasp, her gaze flew to the window. The storm sounded like it was coming from their backyard. Her distress must have finally woken August because he sat up beside her in bed, bare chested, his brow chiseled with concern. Instantly on alert.
After a quick glance at the window, he studied her face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Bad storm,” he said, pushing a set of fingers through his bedhead. “We might be stuck in here all day.” That same hand disappeared beneath the comforter and she knew exactly what he was doing under there. The flex of his forearm muscles gave him away. “Can’t think of a single thing we might do to occupy ourselves. Can you?”
A little over a week ago, she would have taken an immediate jab at him. Claim she was calling the police to request immediate evacuation. Or ask in mock horror if they’d be forced to drink his wine if they ran out of rations. But now, she simply turned wet, already starved for August’s weight on top of her, the friction their warm morning skin would make as he moved. Slow at first. Then hard. Then fast and ferocious.