Page 125 of The Reason I Married Him
Okay . . . but . . . was that better for him? Did he notice any improvement? Does he want to do it again tomorrow?
I guess only one way to find out.
The Next Night. . .
“You know I already checked the lock on the doors,” I say to him as he finishes making sure everything is secure before slipping into bed, wearing the same thing he wears every night. A fresh pair of boxer briefs and nothing else. His hair is damp from his shower, and his chest is freshly lotioned—something I wasn’t aware men did. But he does, and when the light hits it just right, he glistens.
Not that I’ve noticed his glistening chest in great detail.
“I won’t be able to sleep unless I personally check it,” he says as he moves in closer to me. “How was your day? Sorry I didn’t make it out to the farm.”
“You don’t have to come out every day. I told you that. I’m fine.”
“I know you’re fine, Aubree, but remember, I’m here for support.”
“I’m aware, and thank you, but seriously, everything is fine.”
“Good,” he says, his hand going to my hip like it has the last two nights. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” I say.
“Well, I wanted to check in with you and see where you were with me holding you at night. Wanted to make sure you were okay with that. I know we never talked about it. I just kind of . . . made it happen. Now that it’s happened a few nights in a row, Iwant to make sure you’re okay, that you don’t want me to stop. Because I will.”
“Oh, umm.” I wet my lips as he peacefully waits for my answer. His patience and understanding are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Growing up, my father was anything but patient. He was a tornado, sweeping through the house every night. We were always on high alert, waiting to see what kind of man would appear. Was he going to hurt us? Yell at us? Ignore us altogether?
But with Wyatt, he offers this sense of peace, of structure. I know what to expect from him, at least now that we’re in a routine, and it’s weird to say, but it’s comforting.
I know every morning he’ll wake up and work out, usually go for a run. Then he’ll take a shower and spend his day either helping around town, visiting Rodney, or working on the farm. At night, he either asks me out to dinner or we spend the evening with the family. He jokes around with Ryland and Hayes and then helps me with the dishes. At night, he takes another shower, he lotions, maybe answers some emails, then he checks the locks and holds me.
It’s a routine I’m starting to get used to, that I’m starting to count on.
“Is that a no?” he asks.
“What? No. Sorry,” I answer. “Was just thinking. I, um, I’m not good with this kind of stuff, you know that. But I don’t mind you holding me at night. So you know, if you want to keep doing it, you can.” I shrug, trying to play my answer off as casual.
A light smile tugs on his lips. “Glad to hear it.” Then he pulls me in close again, and his hand cups my cheek. “Good night, Aubree.”
“Good night,” I say right before he brings his mouth to mine once again. I brace myself, and when his lips connect with mine, I kiss him back, but this time, his mouth slightly parts. It’s sosmall, but it’s just enough that I follow his lead and do the same. And instead of one peck like the last two nights, this is different. This is a step up in intimacy. This is two kisses molded into one.
It’s brief as he pulls away, but it was a small glimpse of what this man could really do with his mouth, and when he pulls me into his chest, I worry for a moment because . . . I think I liked that.
Wait, no, I know I liked that.
I liked it more than I should have.
The Next Night. . .
I curl into my pillow, listening to the sound of Wyatt typing away on his computer. He told me he had to address something and asked if it was okay that he took care of it before bed. I told him it was fine, and I rested in bed for a bit, but as he continued to type away, I started to drift to sleep, so I turned into my pillow, turned off my light, and now I’m resting my eyes just as I hear him click his computer shut.
He moves around the room, checks the locks, then slips into bed, only to slide across the mattress and right up against me, getting in his cuddling position. But instead of resting his head, he leans up on his elbow, hovering over me, and then I feel his hand come around to my jaw. He gently tilts my face in his direction. His strong grip not only sends a euphoric chill through my limbs, but it also creates the right angle for him to lean down and kiss me.
Just like last night, he parts his lips, and I part mine. His mouth works over mine as his hand holds me in place, and I sink into the mattress, relaxing as he kisses me once, twice, threetimes, and on the last one, his tongue runs across my lips, and I swear on this entire farm that I nearly moan from it.
But luckily, I clamp down on my mouth before I can let out the sound.
It stays trapped inside me, swirling around, making me feel dizzy and chaotic. Warm and fuzzy. Dazed and confused.
That kiss . . . that was short, but the perfect length to entice me.
