I crawled to her, wild and hungry. I wasn't hiding it.
"Is this okay?" I asked, settling between her legs. I had one hand curled around her waist, the other flat on her back. My hips were rolling, my cock sliding over her slick skin.
"Yeah," she said. She nodded, her eyes wide as if she was surprised by this. "It's okay, it's good."
But I wasn't convinced, and I was willing to wait for a less tenuous response. I was getting this part right if it killed me.
"Where's that tequila?" I asked, looking around. It was marooned against a pillow on the other side of the bed, and I reached for it. The bulbous cork popped free, and I tossed it over my shoulder. "What do you say, lovely?"
Erin's teeth sank into her bottom lip as she hummed in agreement. I started to pour, a little at first, not wanting to douse the entire bed in alcohol. But goose bumps broke out over her chest, and her nipples were dark, shiny rubies demanding my attention, and then I poureda lot. Her shoulders shot up as a shiver moved through her body when the cool liquid splashed down her torso and pooled in her belly button.
"Now who's going to clean that up?" she asked, her lips pushed out in a small pout.
Kneeling between my wife's legs with my cock standing at high alert and a bottle of tequila dangling between my fingers, I knew this was right. This wasreal. Nothing else mattered, not her scars, not her brothers, not the distance between my life and hers, not the hours we'd known each other. Nothing but the moment when all of her vulnerabilities faded and the woman I knew on some raw, instinctual level was revealed.
I leaned down, bowing to her, and sipped tequila from her skin. I followed the paths the sticky liquid had traveled, licking her belly and breasts as I throbbed against her core. My tongue rolled over her nipple until her fingers found my hair and she arched back, moaning. I leaned up and kissed her, swallowing her sighs.
There was no multitasking this morning, no smooth moves. I was focused on searing these moments into memory because this was our last first time.
"I'm ready now," she whispered, wrapping her legs around my waist. "I need you."
I hummed against Erin's lips, my eyes closed and my forehead touching hers. Angling my hips, I thrust inside her and a flash of unbelievable pleasure shot up my spine. She was hot and tight and all the wonderful things that went along with good sex, but she was alsomineand that changed everything.
"Oh,fuck, you're enormous," she panted out, her lips twisting in a grimace and her eyes squeezed shut.
"Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?" I asked, slowing my movements. I planted my hands on either side of her head and stared down at her. "Or are you trying to get me harder? You've succeeded, by the way."
"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," she whispered.
"Thank God," I said as she pulsed around me.
I pressed my lips to her neck and shoulders, licking and sucking while she gripped my hair and mumbled quiet words. There was a series of "Oh, oh, oh" and then "Please, and—oh fuck,fuck" and "Where did…how…Nick, oh yes…" while I stroked harder.
I hooked my arm under her leg, and that small adjustment had her eyes popping open. "You're the best husband in the world," she said. "I can't even believe that you'remine. That you're forme."
This woman, she always knew exactly what I needed to hear.
There were no more words, just the bedsprings, the slap of skin, and gasps and murmurs. We came within seconds of each other, one rough cry after another. Neither of us moved, instead panting and kissing and touching like we were teaching our bodies how to remember. She was probably sore and smothered under my weight, and I had to ditch this condom but none of that was urgent enough to tear us apart.
Erin yawned and I dropped a peck on the corner of her mouth. "Tired?" I asked.
She nodded, smiling up at me. "Stay with me," she said. "Stayright here."
Her hands were on my body, clutching me as if she was trying to tear off a pound of flesh to keep as her own and I wanted to give her that. Anything, I'd give it to her, and I didn't even try to understand that urge.
Chapter Five
Erin
Warm water poundeddown on my back as I dropped my head to my knees. I needed a timeout, a few minutes to breathe without Nick's—myhusband's—gaze following my every move. We'd slept for a couple hours, but his embrace was too warm and I was too grimy from the flight, the boat, the sex, all of it.
Timeouts worked for me. Even saying that word over and over helped quiet my mind.Timeout, timeout, timeout.
That's what my therapist called it, a timeout from all the things I'd used to keep me numb.
And, yeah. Therapy. As much as I'd fought it, skipping out on therapy wasn't an option.
Not after a big, big bottle of sleeping pills. Not after a paring knife dug three ditches in my right wrist. Not after the pills turned my cheeks hot, and nothing,nothingat all hurt anymore, and then the blood pouring from my arm turned my limbs cold and the fear crept into the edges of my consciousness. Not after waking up in the adolescent psych ward at McLean Hospital. Not after telling Shannon I'd never speak to her again.
