I had absolutely zero control when it came to the man.
All he had to do was get near me, and I turned into this passionately obsessed woman that lived and breathed Wade Johnson.
“Dear sweet baby Jesus,” I breathed when he finally pulled back. “This is the worst idea ever.”
He didn’t answer me.
Instead, he pulled me to him once again, and I decided that maybe I was tired of fighting everything.
I was tired of fighting me. I was tired of fighting us. I was just plain tired.
I needed Wade, and I needed him now.
Everything else? The marriage. The way I’d felt betrayed. The promises I’d made to myself.
That was all background music.
Being in Wade’s arms was where I had always wanted to be.
I moaned and leaned forward into the kiss, my uninjured hand clenching his hair while my injured one went to cup his neck.
His pulse was beating a fast, hard thump-thump against my palm, and I pulled back so that he could see me.
“This really shouldn’t happen here,” I admitted.
He snorted and reached for my shirt.
We both knew it was going to happen exactly where we were.
I just hoped his parents didn’t come home while we were doing it.
“Since when have we ever done it anywhere appropriate?” he inquired.
That was true.
Our first time we’d done it on the front seat of his truck in the middle of town. Our second time we’d at least parked his bike in a secluded spot in my apartment complex’s parking lot before we’d gotten busy.
The third had been on a park bench and our fourth had been in a swing much like the one we were on—only in his backyard.
Hell, we hadn’t even made it to the privacy of his bedroom until well after our four-month mark.
When we saw each other—which was rare since he was always busy with work, and I was busy with school and work—we barely had enough time to wait until we were somewhere where we wouldn’t be seen.
And it looked like time and distance didn’t change how we went about doing certain things—like sex.
We were all about spontaneity.
“Arms up,” he whispered against my lips.
I pulled back and allowed him to pull them up, shivering when his eyes found my breasts.
“You’re wearing my bra,” he growled.
I was.
I liked wearing what he considered ‘his bra.’
It was a black lace see-through number that he’d bought me to wear on our honeymoon.
But it never stayed on long when he was around and knew I was wearing it.
Honestly, today was literally the longest I’d ever worn it when he was in the vicinity.
If it wasn’t so freakin’ sad, it actually would’ve been kind of funny.
“God, you destroy me,” he murmured, pulling his arm from around me and trailing his finger down the curve of my left breast.
I swallowed hard and squirmed, causing him to growl.
“And those godforsaken shorts,” he hissed. “Where the fuck did you find those at?”
I smiled. “Sam’s. They’re considered ‘CrossFit’ shorts. But I thought they were cute, so I bought them. This is my first time wearing them.”
He growled low in his throat. “So, you decided to wear them when you knew that I wouldn’t be able to touch you.”
I tilted my head slightly. “As you can see, you’re touching me right now.”
In fact, one of his hands was cupping my breast, while the other was spanning the curve of my ass. The hand on my ass had fingers that were getting perilously close to other more intimate parts of my anatomy with each passing second.
“Touching you,” he agreed. “I guess I should show you what ‘touching’ really is.”
Then he reached around me even farther and grabbed the inside hem of my shorts and yanked them over, exposing my inner flesh.
I gasped when I felt the cool air where I really shouldn’t feel cool air while still mostly wearing shorts and said, “God.”
He leaned forward and sucked the cord of my neck while his talented fingers dragged slowly through my folds.
My very wet, embarrassingly slick folds.
“All for me,” he declared.
I shifted again, dragging my clit over the rough crotch of his jeans, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that I’d just likely stained his pants with my juices.
Neither one of us gave a shit.
For me, it was because feeling that denim against my sensitive nerve endings shot a jolt of pleasure through me, and for him, the pressure of that movement just made him want more.
How did I know he wanted more?
Because he pulled the shorts and panties down my legs, putting me right back where I was, then dropped both of his hands to my hips and ground himself up, pressing us tightly together so that this time when he repeated what I’d just done, even more sensation poured through us.
I bent my head down and buried it in his neck, my teeth latching on to the muscle right at the base of his neck.
When he did it again, I bit down even harder—not hard enough to draw blood, but there would definitely be some marks when we were through.
Wade had always liked sex wild and rough.
Me? I didn’t necessarily know what I did or didn’t like back then until Wade taught me everything I’d ever need to know. I’d been a virgin when I met him. A big flippin’ virgin that had absolutely no clue whatsoever what she was getting into when she agreed to take a man like Wade into her bed.
What I hadn’t known at the time was that Wade was just as inexperienced as me, though he in no way, shape or form acted like it.
But, over the course of our courtship and marriage, Wade had taught me a lot of things, and those things were things that I greatly missed while we’d been separated since our supposed divorce.
I hadn’t realized just how addicted I’d become to the man until I’d walked away from him.
“Unbutton my pants,” he urged.
I didn’t waste time reaching in between us.
I didn’t stop at the twinge of pain that ran through my hand and up my arm when I roughly yanked his jeans open. I didn’t stop until his jeans were gaping and his dick was in the palm of my hand.
And suddenly, everything was right in my world.
I had him back.
I had him in my hand.
I had him exactly where I wanted him.
Our life was still fucked up and everything was still up in the air, but right then? We were exactly where we were meant to be.
And then he urged me up on my knees and pushed until his cock was lodged at my entrance.
My eyes caught his when he started to slowly force me down, taking everything that he had to give. I felt our souls reconnect right then, back to how we were in the very beginning.
Sex had never been our problem.
It’d always been so fucking good for us.
And this, him filling me up one slow inch at a time? It reminded me exactly why I hadn’t been able to move on.
There was no moving on from Wade Beauregard Johnson. There was only existing until you died.
My breath caught when he finally hit bottom, and just when I thought he wouldn’t get any more in, that there was literally no more of me for him to fill, he pulled out and started the whole entire thing all over again.
And, just sayin’, the man made me take more.
I felt so full. So, fucking full that I felt like I might burst from the inside out.
His eyes were locked on mine, and he was reading my slight panic.
“You’re tight,” he rasped, barely able to control his breathing. “So fucking tight.”
I wanted to laugh.
I hadn’t had anything inside of me but a finger since him. Of course, I was tight! His dick was bigger than anythi
ng I’d ever had inside of me in my life. Hell, he’d come around and given me the best that any woman could have, and I had no reason for dildos and vibrators. The moment that he came into my life I’d thrown them all away. Even when we’d separated, I hadn’t bought any more.
What would be the point when you knew there was something so much better out there than you were capable of getting?
As Wade started to move me up and down, my eyes drifted closed, and I remembered exactly why he was so much better.
He filled me so completely—so utterly full—that at times I was sure that I would find it hard to walk after we were through. But during the actual act of sex? I could care less what I’d feel like afterward because Wade could do things to my body that I never even dreamed of.
Like when he pushed me back slightly, causing my hands to either go to his knees that were steady behind me, or fall backward.
I deposited both of my hands right on his shoulders and squeezed, changing the angle he was entering me, and I saw stars.
That was my spot.
For some reason, when I was on top and in this exact same position, things always went quickly.
I knew just as well as he knew that he hadn’t had anybody since me. Meaning he was likely just as close if not closer than I was.
He always used to say that being inside of me was like being inside a hot, wet silken fist that hugged him like a leather glove made for him.
I had always agreed, because when he was inside of me, I felt like if he were any bigger, I just might burst at the seams.
“Fuck me,” he growled, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure.
It was then I realized that all the rocking and jerking of my hips and thighs were likely forcing him to move when he was hurt.
But when I went to move off, he stopped me with a forceful touch of his hand on my breast, urging me to keep moving on top of him. “No, don’t.”
I didn’t stop.
I was so freakin’ close that I couldn’t stop.
“Goddamn, faster,” he urged, helping me move.
The swing we were in was shimmying and shaking, swaying almost violently with our movements.
My knees hurt where they were digging into the wooden slats, and I was fairly sure I had a splinter somewhere on my shin.
But, as he continued to pump into me, I no longer cared.
I cried out as a tidal wave of pleasure slammed into me.
My pussy clenched around him as I started to come.
Things got very wet very quickly, and I had a second to realize that I shouldn’t be that wet when another orgasm slammed into me.
I’d never, not ever, been a multiple-orgasm person.
But as he fucked me hard and followed me over the edge, I wasn’t sure that I wouldn’t continue to be.
The man was good—and I’d missed him.
God, how I’d missed him.
I leaned forward until my body was pressed against his chest, and felt his cock continue to jerk inside of me.
I also made sure to shift my weight to the side so that as little of my weight as possible was on his bad side.
Soon the only thing that was moving was the swing as he swayed lazily, and I wondered then and there what the hell I was going to do now.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly.
I felt him swallow against my forehead. “Leg hurts like a bitch now that I’m not focused on coming,” he admitted. “But goddamn, did I need that.”
I laughed and started to move, ignoring the way that my knees ached and my shin stung.
It was only when I was standing that I realized he was really wet.
“Uhhhh,” I looked at him, horrified.
He grinned. “Didn’t know that you were such a juicy comer before, but now that I know…we’ll have to continue to play with that.”
I felt my face flush as he stood. “Now let’s go see if we can get cleaned up before my parents get back with our steaks and wonder why we’re flushed and panting.”
Chapter 10
You know what’s worse than the first day of school? Being out of school and realizing that you have to work and pay bills and shit.
-Landry to Wade
Landry
That night, I slept in Wade’s bed.
After staying up late, talking and drinking with his parents, and genuinely having one of the best nights of my life, I wasn’t going to say no to sleeping with him again.
Honestly, the word “no” hadn’t even crossed my mind as we mutually got ready for bed.
And now, in the light of morning, I was wondering what in the hell I was going to do when we got home.
Regardless of whether or not we really were still married, we still had a lot to work out. We were still exactly where we were before we’d found out that we were still tied irrevocably together.
But, the thought of doing anything—signing divorce papers all over again—was abhorrent to me.
It’d literally taken me getting drunk the night before the bone marrow extraction surgery—I was also semi-hoping that if I had an alcohol content in my blood, they’d refuse to do surgery, which, by the way, didn’t stop them at all—to get those papers signed.
I honestly didn’t think that I could sign them again.
I’d felt raw and broken for months after I’d signed them—after he’d signed them—and if I was being honest, still did.
Something had lifted off my chest yesterday when I’d heard his uncle’s words.
The control that I’d thought I wielded was taken from me, and I’d never felt more alive.
Then again, it could be the hot hunk of a man sleeping next to me.
I rolled slightly so that I was facing him and stared at the man that made my heart pound just by being near him.
He was still very much asleep. How could I tell? He was snoring through his slightly open mouth.
His breaths were steady and even, and he’d likely stay that way for the next hour or two seeing as it was still ungodly early. I woke up like clockwork at four-thirty in the morning due to having to be at the daycare at six to open it.
I was honestly surprised that my phone hadn’t started to ring. It was unusual for things to actually go the way they were supposed to with my employees.
I just hoped the reason I hadn’t gotten a phone call yet was because everything was running smoothly and not because they were all on their death beds and unable to get to work.
Feeling the protest of my bladder reminds me that it wasn’t happy with me and all the beer I’d had the night before, I pushed carefully from the bed and headed to the bathroom.
I only turned the light on once I had the door quietly closed.
When my eyes finally adjusted, I did my business and went to the sink to wash my hands, only to be stopped by the multiple pill bottles that lined the edge of the sink.
I scanned each bottle, studying the labels, and felt my heart start to pound again.
That day that he was hurt was the scariest day of my life, and that wasn’t because I’d been shot myself. It was because my worst nightmare had come true, and Wade had been shot in the line of duty.
He was alive now, but there was never a promise or guarantee when it came to a police officer’s life. There was always the possibility that he’d strap that Kevlar vest on himself, and have a paramedic slice it off of him as they worked tirelessly over his battered body.
I shivered and pushed the bottles farther to the side, making sure not to get them wet as I washed my hands and face, followed shortly by brushing my teeth with the toothbrush I hadn’t been aware of getting out on my own last night.
Fresh and clean once again, I turned off the light and walked back out into the main room of the pool house.
With the eerie blue glow coming in through the glass windows of the room, I could make out Wade’s sleeping form in the bed.
He’d changed positions while I’d been gone. No
w he was on his back, his good leg cocked up and leaning to the side. His arms were up over his chest, fingers crossed, and he was snoring softly once again, only this time his mouth was wide open.
I felt a smile reach my face, and I contemplated getting back into bed with him.
But something he’d said last night as we were walking inside—about how he hadn’t been sleeping all that well since he’d been shot—forced me not to.
I wanted him to get all the sleep he could get.
Not only was it better to help him in general, but it would help him heal faster—or so I’d heard.
Tiptoeing to the door, I opened it and disappeared outside, closing it just as quietly behind me.
I was unsurprised to see Porter sitting outside drinking a cup of coffee. He was sitting in a lawn chair with the morning newspaper in his hands, reading by the light that the kitchen LED lights cast through the glass.
He looked up from his paper when he heard me approach, and grinned.
“Thought for sure you’d sleep until noon since you only went to bed about four hours ago,” he murmured as I walked up and took the seat beside him.
I snorted. “It doesn’t matter what I do. I’m always up by four-thirty. I guess I have an internal alarm. I have to be to the daycare by six, and if I don’t get up early, then I won’t have time to get any housework done. Sometimes I catch a bug and workout, but those times are few and far between. Mostly I sit there like you’re doing, read the newspaper and drink coffee until I feel human enough to do something.”
He grunted. “Sounds about right. Go get you some coffee. Read the funnies.”
He slapped the ‘funnies’ down in front of me and I stood back up to do his bidding, happy to feel that my hand was doing much better today than it had yesterday. I barely had a throb when I put pressure against it now—though my hand had been numb since I’d woken up.
Coffee in hand, I retook my seat and started scanning over the comics.
We sat like that in companionable silence for what felt like forever but ended up being more like thirty minutes.
As he finished with a section of his paper, he’d lay it down in a stack next to my elbow, and I’d pick it up once I was finished with the one he’d previously handed me.
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