Page 81 of Love Wells Kept

Kate’s head lists to the side, and her orgasm-glossed eyes meet mine. “So much better. Thank you.”

“Just doing my husbandly duties.” I’m floating somewhere above us, feeling a whole lot like I’m the one who came.

A small crease forms between her eyebrows. “Jackson, I hope you didn’t do that because you felt obligated.”

I was worried before that touching her would feel like touching somebody else’s wife. But Kate Wells is all mine. I might never remember proposing, or marrying her, or what the honeymoon sex was like, but I remember every moment of the last couple months. The soft words and softer touches, the love in her eyes when she looks at me, the way making her smile feels a lot like winning the best game at the carnival.

“God, no. That was purely selfish. I’ve wanted to touch you since the first time I saw you.” I gently knead her soft stomach until her eyes close. “I want to be a husband—your husband. You’re my wife. I want to cuddle you while you cry and make you come so hard you forget why you were crying in the first place.”

“I love you.” She exhales the words out like a pent-up breath.

And I consider saying it back to see if they feel as good coming off my tongue as the words husband and wife do.

“Don’t.” Kate cuts me off, clearly sensing the spiral. “Don’t say it until you really feel it. It’s okay. I don’t need to hear it, Jackson. I need you to stay with me.”

“I can do that.” I pull her closer. “I can do anything for you.”

Kate

It’s been days since Jackson held and touched me in the guest bed, and we’ve yet to take things further than that. Not for lack of wanting. I want to feel him the way I used to—in fact, it’s all I can think about when I’m tossing and turning in bed every night. But his words in the kitchen hold more weight in my heart than everything he said in bed that morning, and I’m so damn afraid of being rejected again.

With cruise control on, old-school country music quietly playing, and the midday sun on my face, we start down the highway away from Wells Canyon.

I blindly rummage through the mess of receipts and granola bar wrappers and pens without lids in the door of my car before producing a pair of purple sunglasses. The lenses are smudged, and the one arm doesn’t sit perfectly straight, but they’ll get the job done.

I jokingly offer them to Jackson first. “You looked cute in my sunglasses last time.”

“I think I’ll risk the migraine and squint instead.”

I slip the glasses on. “You say that until you’re laid up in bed and I’m in the hot springs alone later.”

Sunshine paints the rigid angles of his face in gold when he turns to me with a scoff. “You wouldn’t ditch me for a hot spring if I had a headache, would you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll set you up with a glass of water and a cool cloth before I go.” I give him a quick smirk before returning my attention to the winding highway. “I deserve an uninterrupted soak, and if you want to stay happily married to me, you’ll let me have it.”

“You do,” he says. “Sorry we never put in that big soaker tub you wanted.”

My eyes dart rapidly between his face and the road. He doesn’t even realize that he remembered something just now, and while it’s not huge, it’s everything. Granted, I’d love it if the thing he remembered about our marriage was something that cast me in a better light than my hissy fits over wishing I had a soaker tub in the bathroom.

“This is so much better than a soaker tub.” I place my hand on the center console, palm facing up, and he takes the hint.

For a few minutes, neither one of us says anything. We simply hold hands, listening to the faint reverberations of Odessa’s favorite country singer, Andie Wilson.

“I have a suggestion,” Jackson says in a quiet beat between songs, “if you’re up for it.”

“Yes, I’ll shave your balls before we go skinny dipping.”

He coughs, choking on his own spit. “Oh my God, no. My brain’s already fucked up. The last thing I need is to be accidentally neutered.”

“Your brain is not fucked up,” I sternly reply, then smile over at him. The speed at which his skin took on a rosy hue is astonishing. What I would give to feel the heat of his cheeks on my lips. “Those capillaries in your face, on the other hand.”

He shakes his head, pressing his free hand to his blush. “Now my suggestion is going to be lame in comparison to whatever you’re planning for this weekend.”

“I’m honestly not planning anything except spending time in the hot pools.” And hopefully continuing what we started in the bedroom the other day. “Sorry for hijacking that—tell me what you’re suggesting.”

“After therapy yesterday, I looked up some questions we could ask each other…like a get-to-know-you game. But, well—it’s mostly going to be me getting to know you.” He pulls at his pant leg, loosening the denim around his thigh. His nervous excitement is so pure and honest, it wouldn’t matter what the suggestion was, I’d go along with it. I’d go anywhere, do anything, with him.

“I’m an open book. Ask away, handsome.”