“Are we clean enough now?” I husk, breathing heavily against her neck. She nods, and I spin her around to face the wall. Her hands fly up against the tile to brace herself.
“I love you so much,” I call out. She gasps as I push into her. Her warm softness surrounds me as I roll my hips.
Yes.My thrusts at first slow, grow desperate, and in minutes, we’re clawing at each other, begging each other for release.
When she tightens around me, I shout as the orgasm rips through me.
Trembling, I will myself to keep standing and hold on to her, softly caressing the curves of her back and stomach.
She’s still catching her breath. Knowing I’m the reason sends a slow, primal satisfaction through me.
“Wow.” She laughs out loud, uninhibited, still facing the wall. “I’m a satisfied woman, sailor. You have my permission to be proud of yourself.”
I laugh and kiss her back, just beneath her shoulder blade, while I tickle that spot I’ve found beneath her ribs. She jumps. “Ready to go again?” I sigh, completely serious about a round two until cold water pours over us.
“Out,” she says. Giggling and freezing, we stumble onto the rug.
It takes us a minute, but we eventually dry off and make our way into bed.
Resting for a little while, I think about going to sleep, but the memories of what we just did and how good it felt overtake the fatigue. I roll to my side and pull her toward me, nestling my face into her sweet hair—already needing her again. And ready.
“Tomorrow, I dive in the space suit,” I murmur into her ear, trying to sound pitiful and not laugh.
She laughs and doesn’t try to hold back. “And?”
I graze the lobe of her ear and whisper. “Any chance of an encore before I go?”
CHAPTER 23
The Widow
Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse open sleigh
Over the hills we go
Laughing all the way
Ha, ha, ha…
We pass the carolers—Natalie waving and cheering them on—and turn right, walking through the gates of Lazy Shores Park.
Determined to get everyone out of the house this morning, Maddie and I corralled the kids and dogs, loaded the stroller and a bag, and headed out. We’ve been admiring all the decorations along our walk. Multicolored string lights wrap around the palm trunks, turning them into living candy canes. Hanging from the light posts are holiday wreaths in various patterns, each featuring a popular Christmas character.
The mild South Florida December is still warm enough for sundresses and shorts.
We walk along the crushed shell path toward a small cluster of live oaks planted beside a wooden bench. Their wide branches form a circle of shade over us.
Natalie and the dogs jog nearby, weaving in and out of the brighter patches of grass, occasionally disappearing behind the low hedges that edge the path before reemerging again. Restrooms are close by, tucked behind a large cluster of sea grape trees. The park has plenty of shade and quiet corners. A great place for families on a sunny day.
Maddie settles in to get Christopher ready for his feeding, carefully lifting him from his stroller, and I sit beside her, watching Natalie.
The air smells green, but there are dark undercurrents. Our little town is threatened by the heating waters, and an unknown danger is drifting closer to those I love. As grateful as I am for what I have, the little girl in me just wishes her family could sit here and enjoy the holidays without worry.
Nathan is training in his heat-resistant diving suit today. Hisspace suit. I laugh at the memory of last night. I feel like we’re back to us, who we were. Almost. He still doesn’t have any recall. But I’m loading him up with so many memories—from the past and new ones—that soon it won’t matter. What matters is our little girl and us. Natalie giggles as Ding jumps on her in the grass.
Reminding myself that Nathan’s dive today is only training, I try to keep my thoughts from spiraling and focus on the fun we’re having right now.
