He held me as I looked at his tattoo for a long time, naming the blooms and fawning over the artist’s excellency. It was a memorial for me. Forus. For the family we wouldn’t know and for the family we did.
We talked for a few more minutes until I stopped actively bawling my eyes out.
I dried my cheeks for the hundredth time. “I was going to take a picture of us for the scrapbook, but I am a wreck right now. And we’ll have to use a flash which will makeme look shiny.”
“Take one anyway, so we can remember this.” Jack retrieved his phone from his pocket and we had a mini photo shoot with me in his lap. I was smudgy and blotchy in all of them, but we were so happy, it didn’t matter. We took pictures of Jack’s tattoo and even took selfies of us kissing—like teenagers who just made it official.
I loved this man. Ilovedhim.
Finally, we put the camera and the words aside. His arms encircled me and we allowed the heat of our kisses to spiral. I’d been deprived of Jack for far too long as it was. The fact we’d been separated and lived to tell the tale was nothing short of miraculous.
So, I dove into him. The tenderness of the moment catching fire and melting into—finally—unrestrained passion.
Jack’s hand moved up my thigh and his fingers slipped under the hem of my dress. His other hand pressed into my back until I whimpered. His tongue swept into my mouth as I ran my hands over his head and down his arms. He felt like a dream.
We were unleashed. Desperate for more. Aching for skin. Demanding and taking. Giving and surrendering.
His hands followed each of my curves—touching and getting reacquainted with the contours of his wife. I allowed my head to fall back. Jack shuddered, his lips instantly finding my neck and chest with a deep groan.
Something from the depths of my conscience nagged me as his hot mouth moved across my throat. I didn’t want to care, but common decency said I probably should. My voice was hoarse, nearly painful, as I jerked my awareness to something other than him. “Jack?”
“Hmm.”
“There’s like two houses that have a view of our backyard.”
“What houses?”
I puffed a breathy laugh. “Want to take me inside?”
His fingers flexed on my ribcage. “Is this the part where I take you to the shower and use the scrub you put on my sink?”
My head snapped upright. “You weren’t supposed to see all that! It was a surprise.”
He looked up, his slow smile borderline wicked. “Trust me. Seeing it early ruined nothing.”
“Then yes, this is that part.”
Jack stood, effortlessly toting me in his arms. I clung to his muscled back and chest. I breathed in the spicy scent at his shoulder, letting my lips find his neck, his jaw, and the spot under his ear.
“If you want to make it to the house, you better quit,” he growled.
I laughed, relishing in his strong arms holding me up, the speed of his pace, and the way he clumsily groped for the door knob.
“Wait!” I shrieked. He halted mid-kitchen. “I made you an apple crisp.” My smile was suggestive, devious. I batted my eyelashes, enjoying the impatience on his face. “Don’t you want to eat some first?”
His eyebrows drew together and he quickly ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “Let me work up an appetite first, and I’ll eat the whole thing.”
I laughed again, my arms clenching around his neck.
He flew through the living room and into his bedroom, pausing between the bed and the bathroom door. He looked between them and back at me. His blue eyes were wild, starving.
“What first?”
“Bed.”
He smiled then tossed me down.
SIXTY
