I shake my head.
I haven’t been trying in this relationship as much as I should’ve been. Haven’t told my wife anything about myself. Haven’t asked her why she even signed up in the first place. Yeah, I have ideas. Mostly because she signed up right after Taya’s wedding, which is one of the only times I’ve ever caught Inara at a loss for words. I’ll never forget the expression of absolute horror on her face when the screaming brunette woman in the parking lot mentioned she was Inara’s date’s wife.
I wince at the memory. It was obvious she’d had no idea the slick guy in the fancy suit by her side all night was already hitched. But ignorance wasn’t enough to save you from the scorned partner’s wrath. Been there, experienced that, years ago. Left with a black eye to show for it. So I’d ushered Inara to her car, quickly, while the woman was still fixated on her cheating husband.
Physically, Inara had been fine. Emotionally? I wasn’t so sure. That night, I’d watched my now-wife shrink right before my eyes while her hands shook on the wheel.
So, yeah. I’m guessing the shock of discovering her boyfriend was married, combined with her mom’s lousy track record, had a whole lot to do with her hasty decision to join the Issued Partner Program. Then again, when two people never have real conversations, all you have are ideas. And assumptions. And everyone knows what they say about those. So maybe, considering my lack of relationship experience, it’s time I do more things that I’ve avoided. Things like actually talking to my wife.
This is the beginning of a new, motivated Tony, the kind of Tony that could actually make a marriage work. The kind of Tony that listens. I pull into the driveway and put the car in park faster than I should, given the sensitive gears. But I’m just happy to be home.
The key is like hot steel in my hands, and I fumble as I slip it into the lock. When I open the door, I’m so excited to see her that I’m practically bouncing, despite my exhausted legs.
“Inara?” I call out down the hallway. Silence greets me. Before checking the garage to find out if her car is gone, I head to the fridge to grab a glass of cold water. A note is taped to the door.
Painting the last of the new houses at the site with Bennett for a family with a little girl. Be back later. Welcome home! I cooked for you. Look in the fridge.
Disappointment that she’s not home coils inside me, but I shake it off and check in the fridge to see what she’s left me. After heating up a plate of her homemade enchiladas—which are literally the best thing I’ve had in my mouth since Inara’s tongue, right before I left—I change clothes and shoot Trevor a quick text, asking if he wants to come with me to the construction site. During training, I made a unilateral decision to include the guy in more activities once we got back home. Jim’s still working through some emotions, which is totally understandable. But that means someone else needs to step up to the plate and do what needs to be done. We’re a team. A unit. Closer knit than a lot of families. Or at least, we should be. It’s not right to hang Trevor out to dry just because he’s the new guy and Jim’s still haunted by ghosts of the past.
My phone buzzes. Trevor’s a yes, so I head back out the door. I stop by his place on the way, and he hurries out to the car and climbs inside.
“Thanks for texting. I was still unpacking and already getting a little restless being home.” He sounds so grateful that I’m doubly glad I invited him along. “Is that normal?”
“Everyone’s different, but yeah, it can be hard to go right back to your regular life when you get home. Physical activity usually helps me a lot, so I figured might as well kill two birds and help out a local family while taking the edge off.”
Less than twenty minutes later, we arrive at the construction site. Unlike the last time I’d helped Bennett out, this house is already built. We walk up the dirt road and enter the open door. Inside, the smell of paint is strong. A couple swipes rollers coated with a beige color on the walls. I don’t recognize them, so after a brief wave, we continue on in search of someone we know. We run into Bennett in the kitchen, where he’s helping another man install cabinets. He spots me and takes a break.
“Hey, Tony! I didn’t know you were coming. Good to see you.” He walks up to us and pats me on the arm. “And look, you brought a friend to help.”
“Bennett, this is Trevor, one of my teammates. Trevor, Bennett. Inara’s stepdad. He’s going to put you right to work.”
The two of them shake hands and then Bennett hands us a couple of paintbrushes. “You ever painted a house before, Trevor?”
Trevor shakes his head. “No, sir.”
“Well, today’s your lucky day. Hey, Lucy,” Bennett calls out of his shoulder. “Trevor here is new. You mind giving him a few pointers?”
A twenty-something-year-old woman with a blond ponytail rubs a hand on her paint-splattered denim overalls and turns to Trevor. “See this?” She wiggles a thick paintbrush at Trevor, and he nods. “This is a paintbrush. You dip this in the paint”—she proceeds to demonstrate—“and you put it on the wall.”
I snicker. A smartass after my own heart. Meanwhile, poor Trevor’s cheeks have turned fifty shades of red. Bennett gently nudges him forward. “Come on, Lucy, quit traumatizing the poor kid and show him how it’s done.”
I’m tempted to stay and watch as Trevor makes his way over toward her, but my teammate is right. I do miss my wife and now that she’s nearby, I’m desperate to see her.
Bennett points to the staircase. “Inara’s up there.”
I toss one last look at Trevor, who’s hovering a safe two feet away from Lucy, chuckle, and then bound up the stairs two at a time. It’s quieter up here. I walk down a narrow hallway and the first room I peer into is empty. I finally find Inara alone in what I’m guessing is the master bedroom at the end of the hall. She’s got earbuds in and is shaking her hips while she strokes paint onto the wall. Her back is to me, so I tiptoe up behind her and then, when I’m only a few inches away, I reach out and give her waist a quick squeeze.
Her shriek is so loud, I bet they can hear it the next town over. She spins and reflexively jabs out with the paintbrush, catching me smack dab in the chest as she pulls AirPods out of her ears. “Tony! You scared me half to death!”
We both look down at the giant blue streak on my old Metallica shirt. “I can see that.”
Then our gazes lift and we stand there, just staring at each other like it’s been years since we’ve been together. Mainly, I’m just drinking Inara in. Memories of how beautiful my wife is couldn’t do the real thing justice. She’s dressed in cut-offs that reveal her long, toned legs and a beat-up gray T-shirt that slides off one golden shoulder. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she has a streak of blue paint across one cheek. Adorable and sexy, all wrapped up into one package.
“Aw, come on, give your long-lost husband a hug.” Before she can protest, I sweep her up into my arms and bury my face in her hair, inhaling that sweet, citrusy scent. “I missed you,” I whisper, as her arms wrap around my waist and squeeze.
“Missed you too. Even if you can be an overprotective ass sometimes.”
“Sorry. I’ll do better next time.” I hold her close for a few more seconds before finally stepping back. My gaze dips to her chest and I snicker. “Hey, look, twinsies.”
She looks down at where the blue paint she’d splattered onto my shirt rubbed off on hers. Right across her left breast. She swipes at the spot and somehow manages to streak it across the other boob, making me laugh even louder. “You think that’s funny, huh?” She arches a dark brow at me and then, without any further warning, flicks her paintbrush at my arm. Sprinkles of blue land on my skin, from my wrist all the way up to my bicep. Then she starts to laugh. “You look like you have a case of Smurf measles.”
Now she’s gone and done it. “I’m way hotter than a Smurf.”
While she’s rolling her eyes, I dart for the paint can, prying the lid off and dipping my brush in before she catches on. When I whirl back around, her eyes g
o comically wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Before she can utter another word, I sweep my brush all the way down her left cheek to her chin and then paint a matching line on the other side. “Now who’s the Smurf?”
My throat tightens up though when she closes the distance between us until her lips are just brushing mine. Her tongue sweeps across my lips, and a low groan emits from my mouth. The next moment, she grabs the back of my head in her hands and is rubbing her cheeks all over mine.
She steps back and admires her handiwork. “I’d say both of us.”
My heart is still pounding away from that teasing almost-kiss. She should look ridiculous with blue paint streaked all over her, but instead, it only makes her look hotter. I’m tempted by an urge to take my brush and drag it all over her skin, from head to toe. Then, I’d drop her right there on the plastic floor covering and find out what kind of art we could create together.
Based on how she’s staring at my lips—the way a starving man looks at a sandwich—her mind must be in the gutter too. She sways a little toward me.
Bennett’s voice interrupts the moment. “Hey, is everything okay up there? I heard some loud noises!”
“We’re fine! Just spilled a little paint!” Inara hollers back. She gives herself a shake and then nudges the paint can with her foot. “Come on. The sooner we get this room finished up . . .”
She doesn’t finish the rest, but it’s all the incentive I need. I scramble over to the paint and start slapping it on the wall in record time. Inara laughs softly to herself, but she’s got a little extra spring in her step too. With the two of us on a mission, we make short work of the room. We finish the smaller guest bedroom just as quickly. When we’re done, I follow her lead and head downstairs with our empty paint cans and brushes.
Inara places the empty cans on the floor in the kitchen and the paintbrushes in a bucket half full of water. She then turns to Bennett, who’s already begun to clean up some of the supplies. “I think we’re done for today. Tony just got back today from training, and I’m beat too.”
I glance around the main living area. “Where’s Trevor?”
“Paint ran out for the rooms down here, so I sent him on a paint run with Lucy,” Bennett says.
Inara’s eyes widen. “You paired sweet Trevor with Lucy? Oh man. Poor Trevor. I bet today ends up being way more traumatizing for him than training must have been.”
“It’s good for him. Builds character.” I wink and then pull out my phone. “Let me check in and ask if he needs a ride home.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Bennett says. “Either Lucy or I can take him, no problem. He’s kind of quiet, but seems like a good man.”
“He is. That’s why I want to make sure that he doesn’t get lost in all the upheaval that’s been going on lately.” I text him the plan and when he confirms he’s good with it, I tuck my phone back into my pocket.
When Inara gazes at me, there’s this warm, soft expression in her eyes. An expression I could get used to seeing. Oblivious to the moment we’re having, Bennett finally takes a long look at us. “So, that’s what all the shrieking upstairs was about—you both got attacked by the paint can.”
I shake Bennett’s hand, eager to get my wife home. “Thanks for letting me pitch in. Hopefully next time I can stick around for longer.”
When Bennett releases and, after he hugs Inara goodbye, I grab my wife’s hand and tug her toward the front door and to our respective cars. On our separate drives home, I caution myself not to get my hopes up. Just because we got a little hot and bothered for a minute there while painting doesn’t necessarily mean that we’re going to cap off my first night back with hot sex.
Then again, it doesn’t mean we’re not either.
I push down a little harder on the accelerator and hurry home.
Of course, Inara has already beaten me there. Wordlessly, we walk up the driveway to the front door. She unlocks it, steps inside, and I follow behind her. Once I’m in the entryway, I turn and close the door. The dead bolt slides home with an audible click. I barely turn back around before she’s launching herself at my chest.
I pull her into my arms and lift her a couple of inches off the floor while I press my lips into hers like I’m in need of air. Her sweet tongue glides out and touches mine, all heat and confidence, with just the slightest tinge of curiosity. We kiss and it becomes everything I want all our other kisses to be. I lift her a little higher and then carry her the few steps to the couch, where I set her on the back edge and position myself between her legs. I grab her by the hips and pull her as close as I possibly can. I want every piece of this woman. I want her to have every piece of me.
I feel at home, with her, for the first time in a very long time.
“Missed you.” My eyes widen and brows rise when the words slip out my mouth like gas in church.
“I guess I kinda missed your ass too.”
I drop my head and chuckle. “And I guess I missed your smart little mouth.”
I pop my head up when her hands reach around, slide into the sleeves of my shirt, and explore my skin. The soft sensation makes me want to pick her up, carry her to the bedroom, and show her all I’ve thought of doing with her this whole time.
“Yeah?” she says as her nails scratch against my back.
“Yeah…”
Inara leans in and nibbles my earlobe, tracing her tongue along the soft flesh. Even though I’m feeling good about my chances right now, her next words still floor me. “Well, why don’t we both shower up super-quick and then you can take me to the bedroom like a real husband and show me just how much?”
Chapter Eighteen
Inara
I’m putting Tony’s shirts into one of the dresser drawers when he emerges from the bathroom. He’s bare-chested and, holy hell, he’s gained some muscle while being away. With water droplets glistening across his sculpted pecs and back, he looks positively scrumptious. But my stomach twists when my gaze lands on the shrapnel scar. He must’ve been lucky to walk away with just the one minor injury, and I’m not sure I really want to know what happened.
Tony pauses when he spots me. “What are you doing?”
I glance down at the last of his shirts in my hand. “Just putting your things away. If that’s alright with you? I figured it was time for you to move into the bedroom.”
Something flickers across his face and is gone the next moment. “That . . . that sounds nice, thanks.” His gaze darts to mine and then drops to the floor. My big, brawny husband, going shy on me. It’s adorable. Especially since I know he’s not that insecure. Not with the way he’d turned painting into foreplay earlier.
My God, I can’t stop thinking about his tongue, those lips, and his arms just taking me and lifting me. I was so damn wet. I slam the drawer shut and hurry over to the bed, plopping down on it and waiting. I don’t care if I look eager. I am eager. No shame in that.
I glance at the knotted towel around Tony’s hips and lick my lips. Eager to get my hands all over my husband’s naked body.
Tony is a little more hesitant as he climbs into bed. Into my bed. The scent of soap floats right under my nose and all I can picture is every place on his body he rubbed with that bar only moments ago. He smiles as if reading my mind.
“I’m happy you’re home.” I turn to him and my chest warms. After six weeks of missing him, it’s nice to have him next to me. And now it’s time to show him just how much.
I bite my lower lip and begin slowly undoing the top button of the romper I threw on over my sexy violet lacy bra while he was in the shower. “Really happy, actually.”
Tony’s eyes fixate on my hands and fingers undoing each button. I really want to rip the damn thing off, but I want to show him how nice a slow buildup can be. With each button I undo, the rate at which his chest rises and falls increases. And when I undo the last button, Tony groans.
I let the romper fall to the floor and stand in front of him wearing a violet-lace thong and matchin
g push-up bra. I take a couple of steps closer to him and run my fingers along his exposed arm. “You like what you see?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows but he doesn’t respond.
I lift his hand and let his rough fingers run along the curve of my cleavage. “You can touch me, Tony.”
I climb into bed and move the fluffy comforter aside so we’re both exposed. I look over at Tony, still wrapped in a towel, as he gets harder and harder. His hand moves to his dick and he rubs it softly over the fabric.
“I was thinking we could do something a little different tonight.” I reach over to my nightstand and pull out my favorite purple vibrator. Tony’s eyes go wide. I’m not sure exactly how inexperienced he is in bed, but sex toys are one of my favorite things to incorporate, and I’m always thrilled to perform for my partners. The idea that they’re there, watching me get off to them, always gives me some of the most intense orgasms.
And the idea I’ll most likely be the one introducing Tony to this kind of play makes me downright wet.
“I’m not sure I know how to use that on you.” His voice cracks the slightest bit as if he’s embarrassed.
I reach over and run my hand across his bare chest. He is so defined, I want to stop and run my tongue along the lines of his muscles, down his stomach to the tip of his hard dick. I want to run the pre-cum along my lips and lick them so he can watch me taste him. But he also needs to learn what I like and, as Taya mentioned, I might as well teach him. “Well, maybe you can just watch instead?”
I lift the vibrator to my mouth and run it across my lips. I lick it from the bottom to the top, before pushing it into my mouth, showing him exactly what I can do. The action of prepping the vibrator for my body sends chills over my skin and causes my pussy to pulsate. I’m ready to show him exactly how I like to be touched and fucked. I turn the vibrator on, and Tony looks startled at first, but then like he just hit the jackpot. I wink at him and run the humming vibrator over his nipples. “It’s only a gentle buzz.”
Matched (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 2) Page 15