“A triple threat. Jackpot.” It’s with that silly admission that I finally squeak out my appreciation for the stunning field that is the backdrop to our domestic squabble. “How? When did you do this?”
“The day after we were married in Vegas.” He keeps his focus on the clouds, so I dock mine there too. “Once my family—ourfamily—showed up, I hired some people to plant the bushes. Rex oversaw it for me. Early spring is the best time, and I wanted you to have a safe haven here—somewhere that reminded you of both your mom and that freedom you crave.”
All that emotion I tried to thwart swarms me. I roll my head toward him, my misty eyes skating all over his face. “You already gave me the music room.”
That was the surprise I encountered when we came home after the trial. A room with an antique record player and all my vinyl albums, guitars, and banjos. It’s soundproofed, which means I can play whenever I want, and Ty and I can be as naughty as we desire.Bonus.
With the help of my brothers, Wells, Ivy, and Celeste had handled that while the rest of us were still in Vegas. What made it the most special present of my life was that Ty gave me records of Ella’s, Audrey’s, and his mom’s favorite songs. We spent hours listening to them, which was hard but healing. He even shared some stories about his family—ones that made him smile and grip on to memories of them from before the pain. Anecdotes that my tortured husband had never freed to anyone before.
It was all more than enough to solidify the sentiment that I was part of this family, that this house was my home, that Ty had fully let me in. So, I don’t know what to do with this.
“And?” he volleys. “I told you I plan to spoil you. Blueberries and music are just the beginning.”
It’s so much more than that.
I shake my head, my chin quivering, too choked up to maintain composure. “No one has ever … I mean, my brothers are amazing. Axel gave me everything, except … it was easier to forget. To remember quietly. You listened—from the very beginning, you heard me—and really were in this with that firstI do. This is …”
He reaches over and collects the drippings of my sentimental jubilation. “I was in this from the words, ‘You didn’t imagine anything, Little Moon,’ even if I fooled myself into believing otherwise. And I was in love with you long before that.” His sweetness only escalates my dewy-eyed response, but then he tacks on, “Your bratty poking was bound to wear me down eventually.”
A laugh flies out of me because that is probably the truth. “I should have run away or sought advice from Ivy and Celeste longago. Making you work for it was a winning strategy even though I am sorry about all the stress I caused you in the beginning.”
Dragging me on top of him—carefully avoiding his still-sore shoulder—he weaves his hand into my hair, peppering kisses along my jaw and nipping at my lips. “I’ll gladly work for you every day of my life, earning the right to call you my wife. You’re worth it all, Mrs. Reynolds—the wait, the stress, the trials, the scars. And so much more.”
When I return his playful nibbles, he seizes my mouth for an all-consuming tethering that is every bit worthy of this blueberry-field setting.
It’s zealous and fruitful, fiery and free.
An electrifying current surges through my veins as his hands roam over me and his tongue commands mine, claiming my marrow and makeup, my cells and soul.
Every growl and purr—the melody of our song.
Every touch—a hard-won treasure.
Lifting up, I graze my teeth across his lower lip. “You gonna choke me again tonight, sailor?”
“I’ll fuck you with a hand necklace anytime you want, Little Moon.” He smiles, bright and beaming and full of haughty charm. “But the choking nearly gave me a heart attack last time. How about I worship you instead? Pamper you, massage you, make you come on my tongue and fingers and cock all night until you forget how to speak.”
Nestling my face into the crook of his neck, I giggle. “Tongue-tied euphoria sounds like an ideal evening. But I did appreciate the breath-play experience, so thanks for that. How much research did you—”
“So much,” he confesses through a chuckle. “I will deliver every fantasy you want, baby girl. But I’m not going to lie. Anything where you could be hurt is tough for me.”
“I love that about you,” I assure him with a gentle kiss. “One choking climax is enough. I’ll take the spoiling, a rough balconyfucking, or even some inappropriate, taunting orgasms near family any day.”
“Perfect. There are plenty of balconies and family-taunting opportunities around here.” He pecks my nose, cognacs capering all over my face, gauging my response to his next words. “And someday soon, I’ll give you the babies you want—that I want too.”
“Yeah?” It’s merely a whisper because I still can’t believe this is real—the man, the marriage, the life. The first time I saw him cradle Felicity, I was a gooey mess. The thought of him holding one of ours is overwhelming.
“Yeah, Little Moon.”
My body melts into his in the midst of this pasture of deliverance. Ty hasn’t drowned me in darkness, like he predicted. He’s bathed me in beauty. All the hardships evaporate when we’re together. The demons rumba right out of the picture. And the noisy world quiets.
So much so that I don’t even hear the commotion of our family until they are right up on us.
“We come bearing gifts,” Ivy singsongs, tossing something to Ty as she climbs out of the stretched golf cart.
The rest of the crew all spread out blankets and lie down around us, crashing our sexy sunset rendezvous. And yet somehow making it exactly right.
Ty surveys the bag of animal crackers and belts out a laugh. “Armageddon, Freckles. I only recall a party of two for that scene.”
