“Would you like that, wife?”
Mmmm.There were moments when he whispered that word to me and I felt like the world was my heartbeat. These were the moments when I wanted to find those lines, the ones carving out the boundaries between real and fake, but these were the same moments when I wanted to cover my eyes to keep from looking. If I didn’t know, I couldn’t hurt myself.
“Yes,” I said. I wanted to return the favor and call himhusbandbut I couldn’t form the word. Not out loud, not yet. It was too dangerous. I’d almost called another man my husband and that history was all too recent to ignore. Though I wanted to say it to Noah. I wanted—just for one second—for him to be my husband. And I wanted it to be real.
“Help me convince this kid it’s time to go,” he said as Gennie jogged over, her cheeks red and her hair disheveled.
She glanced between us. “Are we going to the football place to watch the game now?”
“Game’s over,” Noah said. “Yeah. They played hard. Friendship won. Time to go.”
She stared at the stadium, confusion scrawled over her face. “Really?”
“Yeah. We’re gonna go home, maybe have a glass of warm milk, and then watch a Civil War documentary. There were pirates back then. Probably.” Noah glanced at me for confirmation. I nodded. I was still hung up on the nine-speed showerhead and the lurking awareness that I was falling hard for my husband. “Ready to go?”
Gennie gave the stadium another glance and shrugged. “Yeah. They don’t have frozen lemonade tonight anyway.”
“Frozen lemonade is only available in warmer weather,” Noah said.
“That sucks,” Gennie muttered. “I don’t like football games without frozen lemonade.”
“All the more reason to get out of here.” Noah held out his hand to her. She took it and then grabbed for mine. “I think you’re going to like this documentary.”
“How many pirates are in it?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “We’ll get some blankets and heat up some milk, and then we’ll talk about Civil War-era pirates.”
She was asleep before the end of the opening credits.
And that was how I ended up seated on Noah’s lap, the showerhead pulsing between my thighs while he pounded into me from below. I was waterlogged and wrung out from coming more times than seemed possible, my voice hoarse and my head heavy from so much—so much. After, he combed the tangles from my hair and apologized for letting loose, for pushing too hard.
He always thought he was too rough, too aggressive. He thought I was small and fragile despite the fact I was neither of those things, but there was something surprisingly wonderful about someone doting on me that way. I felt perfect and precious when he rubbed cream into my skin or frowned over a bite mark he’d left on my inner thigh. I felt like I’d been waiting a very long time for someone who knew how to shatter meandalso wanted to pick up all the pieces.
And I felt an unpleasant sense of relief in discovering that person was my husband.
chaptertwenty-eight
Noah
Students will be able to push back on the bastards.
“How did I do?”Shay asked. She wiggled her fingers at her sides, excited and expectant. “What do you think?”
The jam display was significantly more elaborate than anything I’d ever thrown together. “It’s perfect.” I reached for her and dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “You’re perfect.”
Really, she was. She was the cutest jam slinger I’d ever seen with her strawberry earrings, red checkered shirt, and jeans that fit like a wet dream. I wanted to snap a picture of her behind the Little Star farmers market table and slap it on our website and social media. I wanted everyone to see my adorable wife and know this was the kind of magic we were working with here.
But I didn’t pull out my phone to get a picture.
If I did that, I’d probably call the farm and tell them to send someone else to cover the market because I was finished pretending that it made any sense for Shay to appear at her ex-fiancé’s command. It didn’t. There was no way this would end well.
“Stay close to me,” I said, glancing around the market tent. I wanted to believe that I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd, that I’d know by the smug grin on his face or the overall soul-sucking demon vibe. “It’s not too late to change your mind. We can leave, you know.”
“We’re not leaving,” she said with a laugh. “Gail cleared her whole day to look after Gennie. She’ll be pissed if we come home early.”
“Then stay where I can see you.” I gestured toward the picnic tables in the middle of the tent. “Or I can close down the table and go with you. You’re worth more to me than half an hour of jam sales.”
Shay batted her lashes. “Aww. I don’t think anyone has ever compared me to jam sales before.”
