Page 225 of The Reason I Married Him
I bring my hand to her thigh and gently rub my palm over her soft skin. “Maybe we don’t put a time limit on anything. Not on this marriage, not on this dating. I want us to be able to explore this, us freely without the pressure of anxiety of it ending in a year.” I press my palm to her hip and hold her tight. “I like you, Aubree, a lot, and I want to give this a fair shot.”
Her hand runs up my chest as she says, “I’d like that, Wyatt. A lot.”
“Good,” I say as I move in to kiss her neck, my hand sliding under her shirt. “Because I’m starting to grow addicted.”
She spins on my lap and straddles me, letting me slide my hand all the way up to her breast while her head falls to the side, giving me full access to her neck.
Yup, fucking addicting.
Chapter Twenty-One
AUBREE
I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
Wait, I know I haven’t.
I know for a fact that I have never been this happy. This carefree. This joyful.
I wake up with a smile on my face. I go to sleep with a satisfied smile on my face. I spend my days feeling like I matter, like I belong here, like I’m actually wanted and not an inconvenience.
And it’s all because of Wyatt.
These past few days in Canoodle have been a dream.
We’ve walked around town every day, trying out different restaurants. Put a Wing On It was my favorite—their buffalo wings were heaven. We hiked some trails. We’ve made out in the middle of the woods, the rustling of branches and the tweeting birds mingling with our moaning. We even skinny-dipped into a lake on one of the trails for about two seconds before we both screamed from the frigid temperatures. We snuggled in the cabin in front of the fire while watching movies and drinkinghot cocoa. We have fucked on nearly every surface of the cabin imaginable, sometimes twice. And at night, when he holds me, tucking me against his chest, I’ve felt safe and . . . loved.
I never want this to end.
I never want to lose this feeling.
This consuming, weightless, exuberant feeling.
But all good things must come to an end, hence why I’m zipping up my suitcase and rolling it to the stairs.
“Leave it up there,” Wyatt shouts from down below. “I’ll grab it, babe.”
He’s so thoughtful. Considerate.
I remember going on a trip with Matt one time, and he never offered to carry my luggage. Not that I need a man to help me, but the offer is nice.
I head down the stairs just as Wyatt starts coming up. We meet halfway, and he places his hand on my stomach. He leans in and kisses me. When I part my lips, he groans and leans me back against the stairwell wall. My arms loop around his neck, and I pull him closer as his hand smooths down my ass, gripping me tighter.
I deepen the kiss by letting my tongue tangle with his, getting lost in the sensation of just me and him.
“Fuck, baby,” he says as one of his hands goes up the back of my shirt. “You’re getting me hard.”
To see if he’s telling the truth, I move my hand to his jeans, where I’m greeted with a bulge. I smile against his lips, stroking him through the rough fabric.
“Aubree,” he groans in frustration but doesn’t stop me. “Babe, we don’t have time.”
But we do. I know we have time. I checked my phone. We have just the right amount of time.
I take his hand in mine and slip it down my leggings where I’m not wearing underwear.
“Fuck,” he breathes heavily as he feels how wet I am already. He slips two fingers along my clit and then slides them inside me. “Jesus, Aubree. This clit wants me, doesn’t it?”
“Badly,” I say as I rock my hips over his hand. “Please, Wyatt.”
