Her fingers dug into my shoulders as if she could pull my mouth deeper into hers. My hands framed her hips, thumbs sweeping the curve of her waist, learning her again. Relearning the places that made her moan.
And when that trembling sigh spilled from her, barely a breath and hardly a sound, it vibrated straight through us. The world shrank to the heat of her skin, the softness beneath my mouth, and the way she uttered my name.
I lifted her in my arms, and my Italian loafers stepped over that scarf because we never needed a workaround.
The next morning, I woke up first.
Not because I was responsible. Disciplined. A morning person.
Nah.
Madison had stolen the damn blankets. Every single one. She lay wrapped like a cinnamon roll, somewhere inside, sleeping as if she hadn’t dragged me to the edge of the bed with her, tryna stop her blanket theft.
“Maddy,” I whispered, tugging the cocoon.
She held tight.
I tugged again.
A feral hiss escaped her lips.
“Really?” I muttered. “I could win this fight.”
Her voice floated from somewhere beyond. “You kept me up all night. So, I beg to differ.”
I shook my head. “Get up,bébé. We’ve gotta go home.”
The blankets tumbled, leaving me with a sight. My gorgeous wife. Naked. Goosebumps climbed over her breasts and shoulders, but I was the one who felt like shivering in delight.
She groaned. “Wash, why do we need to rush home? The contract is void. Voided. Burned. Drowned in wine. Drowned in us. So,Baby No. I’m not rushing home.”
“Excuse me?” I rasped. “I’m gonna believe you called me that because you’re still stuck in dreamland.”
She whimpered. “Why rush?”
I kissed her mouth. “Because our shower is at home.”
She shoved me. “How did you survive waking up at Audubon Park and not jumping straight into the shower? Never mind.” She rolled her eyes. “I get that part. You’d tried your best to get some that night. You are in love with that shower, Washington.”
“It’s a masterpiece.” I was already digging through my duffel bag. “We spent three months arguing with contractors. You wanted a steam room. I wanted water pressure strong enough to repent all that mouthing off you do.”
“And we compromised. A very expensive compromise. Where we got the at-home spa with fog, Bluetooth speakers, a bench big enough to?—”
“Madison,” I warned, because if she finished that sentence, I’d extend the hotel checkout regardless of the charge.
She grinned. “You’re thinking about that bench, huh?”
“Yep,” I admitted, buttoning my shirt faster than I’d ever cross-examined a hostile witness. “We’ve gotta race home. Now.”
“Fine. Race you.”
I blinked. “Maddy,bébé, I’m the literal one.”
But she was already in the bathroom shouting, “First one dressed picks the music for the drive.”
I stuffed my legs into my slacks from yesterday. “Nah, you aren’t playing sad girl R&B for six hours again!”
Her response came muffled and minty. “You will cry, Wash. You always cry to it. And later, when I’m leading you to ecstasy in the shower, you’ll spill a couple of tears that the steam and water will mask, but we won’t tell nobody that either.”
