Her sweet lips play with mine and a memory comes to mind, causing me to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, keeping her mouth stuck to my skin.
“Just remembering something,” I admit, tasting as much of her as I can.
“What?” she searches.
“The first time I saw you naked,” I reveal.
Emma giggles as her teeth nip my ear. “The first night you manipulated my body . . . better than any man ever did,” she comments.
“I’m not referring to the first time we had sex,” I share with a grin.
“That’s the first time you saw me naked,” she states, looking at me.
“No, it wasn’t,” I laugh.
“When did you first see me naked then?”
My grin widens at the idea that she doesn’t remember. “In Hawaii,” I present.
“When did you . . . oh,” she replies, as the realization enters her head. “You said you weren’t peeking.”
“I lied,” I reply, enjoying her reaction.
Emma doesn’t say anything but seems pleased with my admittance.
“The night Henry proposed to Maggie and you drank more than you should have,” I remind.
“Yeah,” she says, trying to dismiss the guilt she used to harbor for how she felt that night, seeing her best friend getting engaged. “So, what exactly happened?”
“You don’t remember?” I ask.
“Some of it,” she confesses.
“Do you remember kissing me?” I explore.
Emma stays silent, but her smile gives it away that she does remember that fact.
“You asked me to help with the zipper on your dress, so I did. You kissed me while we stood in the bathroom. I moved to the bedroom, waiting for you to finish getting ready,” I explain, omitting certain details, like the challenge to keep myself composed and not take her right then and there. “You came out of the bathroom and stood in front of the closet, removed your dress and then your bra and panties like you completely forgot I was there. You turned to the dresser and pulled out . . .” my voice falters a second at the memory as a shiver spreads across my body. “A white tank top and a matching pair of shorts. At least I think they were shorts, but half of your ass cheeks hung out. Your outfit was skin tight and all I wanted to do was rip them off of you.”
“You and your need to rip things off of my body,” she muses.
“You like it too,” I remind.
“Why didn’t you rip them off?” she asks, proud that she had, and still has that affect on me.
“You were drunk, remember?” I ask, surprised she forgot that important fact.
“So,” she giggles.
“So, my mother raised gentlemen. Though I can’t say all of my brothers have adhered to that mentality,” I remind. “Plus, if I was going to have my way with you, I wanted you to remember every single second of it.”
“A gentleman knows when not to be a gentleman in the bedroom,” she teases.
“I think we’ve already established that, beautiful,” I comment. “Or, do I need to spank you in order for you to remember?”
“It’s been a while . . . I might need a reminder,” Emma muses.
“Tonight, beautiful,” I confirm.
“I’m going to hold you to it,” she establishes.
“I hope you do,” I say.
“So . . . once I had my tight pajamas on, what happened?” she searches.
“You turned around and saw me sitting on the bed and laughed, confirming you forgot I was there. Then, you suddenly sat on my lap with your legs hanging to one side. You guided my face to look at you and then you kissed me again,” I share.
“Did you kiss me back?”
“Yes,” I laugh, not sure if she seriously doesn’t remember or is just playing me. “You got more comfortable, straddling me, inching closer as your tongue dove deeper into my mouth.”
The first time I kissed Emma it was on our first date. I thought she would have stopped me, but she didn’t. It was the first time I got to taste her — I needed, wanted more. Despite the fact that she was intoxicated that first night in Hawaii, Emma opened herself to me more than she, I think, had intended or expected. The night she was drunk in Hawaii was the second time we kissed. The rest of our vacation in Hawaii, each time we kissed, Emma’s lips told me so much. I found out that she wanted more, she wanted me — she had held back from the first time our lips connected.
“And . . . ?” she asks.
“And, as you slid your body closer, my hands held your legs to stop you from coming all the way. I looked away and said we should get you to bed.” I laugh. “You were so upset when you got under the blankets and found out that I wasn’t joining you.”
“You are a tease,” she charges.
“Only for you, Mrs. Covelli,” I reveal.
Emma’s cheeks redden. “I remember being disappointed that you weren’t joining me,” she says. “And, I remember you coming in after I had the dream . . . asking you to stay with me.”
“I hope I’ve made up for it ever since,” I reply.
“Definitely,” she confirms. “And . . .” Emma gives me one of her wicked grins that includes biting her lip as she nods.
I love it when she looks at me like this — I know she’s up to something.
“What?” I ask.
“And, I remember that whole night,” she reveals.
“Really?”
“Mmm hmm,” she verifies. “I just wanted to hear you describe it.” Her hands reach down and unzip my shorts.
“What are you doing?” I ask timidly.
“Shh,” she directs.
“Emma, don’t,” I scold nervously. “He’s going to wake up.”
“Then, we better hurry,” she replies, lowering her head before I get the chance to stop her.
In a single second, she’s got my cock stuffed into her mouth. My eyes flutter and I do my best to curb any noises from escaping my mouth so I don’t wake our son. By the third time she slides her warm, wet mouth down my shaft I’m completely hard.
“Emma,” I groan.
“What?” she answers deviously, continuing with her pursuit.
“He’s . . .” my voice falters as she sucks me off.
“So what if he wakes,” she presents, sucking the tip of my penis in just the way that I like. “He’s eight months.”
“It’s . . . weird,” I grunt.
“No weirder than all the times we had sex with him in my belly,” she mentions, resuming her task.
With minimal effort, my wife continues to use her mouth to pleasure me, rendering me incapacitated to any reason or logic. I manage to shift our son in my arms enough to allow my right arm to be free. Reaching for her cheek, I cup her face, keeping her hair out of the way until she makes me cum.
“See,” Emma whispers with a gloating smile. She sits up and leans forward, allowing me to kiss her. “He didn’t wake.”
Pulling her closer, my tongue reaches into her mouth. “You’re in trouble for that.”
Emma giggles as she zips up my pants. “Good thing you don’t really like to wear underwear when it’s hot. Easy access for me.” She moves to the bathroom just out of view.
“What about you?” I ask, eager to return the gesture.
“I’m sure you’ll take good care of me later with my punishment,” she answers wickedly. Emma comes back to the bedroom and joins me on the bed. “But, that will have to wait. He’s almost awake.”
“How can you tell?” I ask.
“The way he breathes,” Emma replies. “Just like his daddy.”
We lay together on the bed for at least five minutes as Joe Jr. stirs. As always, I excitedly watch her breastfeed him, gliding my finger across his cheek. She’s already weening him from breast milk as he’s starting to prefer foods and is teething, but this should tide him over until dinner. I selfishly hope he doesn’t stop for another couple of months — the taste of her milk is arousing, especially when we’re in the mi
ddle of having sex.
“I love you,” I say.
Emma pauses for a second, offering her lips. “I love you,” she hums, keeping her mouth within reach.
My body tingles every time she says those three specific words to me.
As I bask in the moment, my mind runs to the memory of when I first met Emma. A primal need surged through me, wanting to take her, have her right then and there, not caring who was around — I’ve never felt that with any woman before. It took me a second or two to compose myself. Then, she smiled and my world completely changed. Her smile — it wasn’t meant for me, I know that. Jared had said something into her ear, eliciting her full, luscious lips to curl. As soon as she saw me watching, her grin quickly faded.
“Emma?” I say.
“Yeah,” she replies.
“What was it that Jared said to you?” I inquire.
“What? When?”
“When we first met . . . outside the library,” I clarify.
“What do you mean?” she searches.
“He whispered something into your ear that made you smile, and when you noticed that I saw you smiling, you stopped,” I expound.
Emma giggles. “Jared was asking me if I thought you were gay.”
“Really?!”
“Jared’s always had bad gay-dar,” she replies. “He thought you were cute and was hoping for a chance. I told him you were definitely not gay.”
“What made you stop smiling?” I ask.
“Why?”
“Just curious,” I admit.
“You.” She bites her lip again.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I had a dirty thought and when I saw you looking at me, I had to cover for it,” she reveals.
“What kind of a dirty thought?” I inquire, eager to know she felt the same way as me.
“Dirty,” she says with a flirtatious tone.
“I wanted to have my way with you right there, not caring who watched,” I announce.
Her grin widens, pleased with my sharing. “I wanted to break into the library and fuck you on either the main desk or against some shelves,” she shares.
“Have you ever done it in a library?” I ask.
“No,” she laughs.
“Looks like we’ll need to find one sometime,” I declare. “Another first to our list.”
“I’m a mother,” Emma challenges. “I can’t be doing things like that.”
“But, you can suck me off while I hold our sleeping son?” I return with a raised brow.
“That’s different,” she comments.
“How so?” I ask with a chuckle.
“We’re in a private setting,” she states.
“That hasn’t stopped you before,” I remind.
Neither of us says anything else about the idea, knowing by the looks we’re exchanging that we will one day have sex in a public library — even if I have to pay to have access after hours. It’s become our thing now, to have lists, and one of those lists has our fantasies on them — ones we both agree to make happen.
“When did you know?” she asks.
“Know what?”
“That you wanted me . . . more than just sex?” she expands.
“The first night we shared a bed,” I admit.
She eyes me. “At Nathan’s?” Emma props Joe Jr. up since he just finished feeding.
I take Joe Jr., offering to burp him as she adjusts her bathing suit top. “Yes,” I confirm. “I think it was before then, but that morning when we woke up together, with you in my arms, I knew.”
My wife’s mouth tucks to the right side of her face — I still can’t believe that she’s my wife.
“What about you? When did you know?” I seek, snuggling into her and Joe Jr. more.
Her face softens and I can tell she’s searching for the right words to express herself which is not easy for her, but she’s getting better — at least I can gauge her emotions by her facial expressions. I sit patiently, waiting for her response.
“The morning after the wedding. Maggie’s wedding,” she reveals. Her cheeks redden.
I purposefully don’t say anything, aware that if I wait long enough, she’ll keep talking.
“I didn’t realize it until Connecticut . . . it wasn’t until then that I realized how I really felt . . . making you upset a second time when I left your mother’s over the picture. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, beautiful,” I soothe. “You’re here with me now and that’s all that matters.”
I’ve known since the morning after Maggie’s and Henry’s wedding that she wanted more than just sex, but I deliberately never called her out on it. Emma, with all that she’s been through and the type of person she is, needs to let her walls down on her own — she can’t be forced — coaxed, yes, but not forced. It has to seem like it’s her idea. I’ve never cared how long it would take her. She was and is the one, and to me, helping her come to those realizations was just as much fun.
“You don’t mind being stuck with me?” she questions jokingly.
“I’m not stuck with you, beautiful,” I return.
“I know, I know,” she muses.
“I chose you . . . and thankfully, you chose me too,” I state. “And . . . he chose us.” Our eyes fall upon our son. “If anything, you’re stuck with us and I don’t plan on going anywhere, Emma. My beautiful wife.”
She blushes slightly and moves closer, offering her lips to me. I take them without hesitation, keeping them connected until Emma laughs. Joe Jr. had tried to kiss his mommy, but ended up licking her cheek — he’s in the licking-kiss phase. Emma gives him a kiss and I’m quick to follow. The three of us go back and forth kissing each other and even Sadie and Jasper.
We make our way to the bathroom, wanting to rinse off from our day out after we change Joe Jr.. I grab one of his blankets and place it and several of his toys on the floor. Emma places him in the middle and Sadie and Jasper join him. While he’s busy playing, I start the bathtub and assist my wife with undressing.
“Easy, Mr. Covelli,” she teases. “He’s awake.”
“I know, Mrs. Covelli,” I muse. “That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun.” My hands take their time, exploring her body as if it’s the first time.
She wiggles a little as I help to remove her clothes.
Offering my hand, I help Emma to step down into the tub once we’re naked, sitting on opposite ends so I can massage her feet. Our gazes bounce back and forth between each other and our son on the floor. Needing to feel her close, I tug on her ankle as I shift closer to her. My hands easily find her hips and I place her on my lap as we lounge. Joe Jr. crawls over, pulling himself up on the one-foot ledge to get to us. With one hand, I get a hold of Joe Jr. under his left armpit and lift him the last little bit so he’s sitting on the ledge that rests at my shoulder level. Emma unbuttons his onesie and we remove his clothing and diaper before bringing him into the water.
“Those classes have really paid off,” I mention as Joe Jr. splashes around in the water.
“And, you thought I was crazy,” Emma teases.
“No,” I remark. “But, it is impressive what an infant can do with just a few classes.”
Once Joe Jr. turned four months old, Emma had an instructor come to the house to teach Joe Jr. how to handle himself if he fell into water — primarily in our pool while he’s playing in the backyard. Amazingly, he took to it quickly, being able to rotate his body so he faces up and already knows how to call out for help. It took Sadie and Jasper a few times to trust the process and not dive in after him in the beginning — we had to lock them inside the house during his first two classes.
I scoop up some water in my mouth and spit it out at Joe Jr. who cracks up with laughter. I’m not sure if it’s the sound or the actual water projecting through the air that he finds so humorous. It doesn’t really matter to me since I’ll do anything to hear him laugh. Emma’s quick to join in the fun after I shoot the water in her dire
ction twice. Joe Jr. laughs even more when Sadie and Jasper try to catch the water in their mouths.
At some point, Emma gets a look on her face — she’s smiling from ear to ear and I can tell she’s happy.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing,” she replies. Her grin widens.
“What is it, beautiful,” I coax.
“Nothing,” she says, moving closer. “I just love you.”
My heart races — it does every time she says it. “I love you,” I reply. I lean in for a kiss and she gladly reciprocates.
As Joe Jr. and I continue to play, I see her watching us out of the corner of my eye.
“Joe,” she calls.
“Yeah, beautiful,” I answer.
She drapes her legs over my lap and begins playing with my hair. “We may need to cut our honeymoon a little short,” she says oddly.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I question, confused by her random statement.
“Nothing,” Emma replies. She reaches for something on one of the built-in shelves behind me.
“Then why would you say . . . .”
“Because of this,” she states, handing me a long, white plastic tube.
My heart pounds in my chest as my eyes bounce between her face and the mark on the stick. “Are you serious?” I ask, eager that she’s not joking.
She smiles and nods as her eyebrows lift, nervous by my reaction.
“When did you find out?” I inquire excitedly.
“This morning,” she reveals, wiping the few tears falling down my cheek. “I had Anna pick me up two of those. Both have the same result.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I was trying to find the right moment,” she confesses. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react, and after the last time with my avoidance . . . .” her voice fades and her head lowers.
I take Emma’s lips with mine, beyond ecstatic at the thought of us having another baby. “How far along are you?”
“I don’t know,” she giggles. “The stick doesn’t tell you that.”
“Why would we need to end the honeymoon? You’re not in the third trimester . . . at least, you don’t look like it.” I comment.
“For Kim to examine and confirm,” she admits.
“We could find someone here in Italy and then have Kim do a full checkup when we get back,” I offer. “We only have three more weeks for this leg of the first string.”
Just Breathe Series (Trilogy Box Set) Page 141