This isn't about just cherishing Wendy's body; this is about cherishing her soul.
We pant against each other's mouths, trying to catch our breath while unable to stop placing soft, delicate pecks on each other’s lips, greedy for what I've starved us of.
My heart slows from pounding against my ribcage to a gentle thrum in my chest, and I can feel hers beating almost in sync with mine.
"Come on, baby," I say, pressing one last lingering kiss on her lips. "We've got dinner plans."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Atlas
Wendy and I are giggling up the walkway to the house, stuffed on tiramisu, chicken marsala, and love.
I keep my hand on the small of her back—to guide her, of course—and my fingers play with the soft skin I find there.
She didn't wear a coat, which I was thankful for. I got to admire her beautiful back and gently trail my fingers down her spine as we walked from the car to the restaurant. It was also a nice reminder that my sexy as fuck wife is braless right now.
At this moment, all is well in my world.
It's a mild late-February night, the beginnings of Spring just starting to peek through the brutal winter frost, the sun lingering longer and longer.
The air feels hopeful after such a roller-coaster winter, and it makes me determined to make this year the best yet.
Not to make up for the past—even if that's part of my goal—but because my family deserves it.
Wendy unlocks the front door and then turns to me, both of us not really sure what to do past this.
Dinner was amazing, as always. I had asked Gino for a favor, and because the Durants were frequent flyers of Antonia's, he closed the restaurant early so we could have complete privacy.
He turned on Sinatra's greatest romantic hits for us, personally served us our food at the candlelit table I set up earlier in the day, and told Wendy he made the tiramisu especially for her, making her blush and smile.
It was perfect, as any date with Wendy usually was. Just me admiring my girl from across the table, feeling so goddamnlucky to be granted a second chance.
"Do you want coffee?" Wendy asks suddenly, and even though we had coffee at the restaurant, and it's after eight, I'll take any excuse to not leave my wife.
Nodding, Wendy sighs in what looks like relief and leads me into the house. She drops her keys in the bowl by the door and takes off her heels. I reach out to steady her as she balances on one foot and then the other.
She winces when she places them back on the ground, stretching her gorgeous red painted toes, and my body moves without permission.
I sweep her up in my arms, and she gasps, "Atlas!"
"Your feet hurt," I shrug, offering my explanation.
She smiles, putting a hand on my cheek and leaning forward to kiss me. I keep my feet moving, easily maneuvering us into the kitchen, right to the island.
The kiss starts soft and sweet, until she opens her mouth and, as if we're of the same mind, mine does too. Our tongues tangle together, sending a jolt right to my cock as I taste her—coffee and cream andmy wife.
I pull back to ask, "Was coffee code for—"
"Yes," Wendy mutters against my mouth. She pulls me back in deeper and nips at my bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue.Oh, fuck.
Letting her stay in control, I place her on the kitchen island. Not moving her lips from mine, I feel her hike the dress up to her thighs so she can spread her legs and let me between them.
Her soft hands are all over me—my shoulders, my arms, down to my stomach, before she reaches my belt and yanks me closer. I’m following her lead, but when she hikes her legs around my waist, that's it for my control.
I grind my hard as steel cock against her pussy, and I swear to God, I canfeelhow wet she is.
"I love you, baby," I groan against her lips. "Always have."
