Page 91 of Love Wells Kept

I wilt like the petals of a flower, coming down from the euphoria as the last few jagged pumps of his cock in my pussy send him hurtling forward with a choked gasp. And I swear to God, I hear him whisper that he loves me.

—

Flicking off the bathroom light, I saunter across the tiny luxury cabin, relishing the way he’s staring at me with heated interest.

Stark naked, save for a thin white sheet covering him from his navel down, he could be a male model. It’s incredibly rude of whatever higher power exists to make men finer as they age, while I’m slathering myself in toners, serums, essences, snail mucin, to prevent me from looking old for my age.

Jackson shakes his head with a lopsided, arrogant smile. “Your face looks like it’s still wet.”

“That’s the point. It’s hydrated and youthful.”

“Come get into bed, my glazed-donut wife,” he murmurs sleepily. “Can confirm you taste sweet like one, too.”

“No complaints?” I tease.

“Oh, God. Never.” He reaches behind his head to fluff up the pillows, then slings his arm across my empty side of the bed, waiting patiently for me to crawl in next to him. I tuck into the crook of his arm, slinging my leg across his, and breathe a sigh of relief.

“We should take more vacations.” Jackson’s chin rests on top of my head. “Did we take them before?”

With a yawny laugh, I answer, “We went to Calgary to see my parents a few times…took Odessa to the zoo there when she was a toddler. But you and I haven’t had too many opportunities to get away like this.”

“Well, we should. Maybe go to a beach, a big road trip, take the kids to Disneyland…all of it.” He’s so matter-of-fact. As if this decision isn’t affected by the difficulties of traveling with kids, or finances, or life in general.

I lift a brow, calling him out in silence because, as much as I doubt any of that will happen, I have to admit it’s nice to dream of it. My fingertips skitter across his bare chest. The hair there’s light brown, a gradual ombré into dark, coarse hair over his pubic bone.

“Denny reminded me a while back that I get a second shot at creating memories with you,” he says. “Trying to make it worthwhile.”

“It’s all worthwhile, Jackson. Most of my favorite memories were simple moments. Every year we go out on horseback to find a Christmas tree—even when the kids were babies, you’d put them in the wearable carrier and away we went.” I draw loopy interconnected hearts across his solid pec.

How different memories feel now that I’m not obsessed with needing him to remember. What I truly needed was this—our bodies and hearts reconnecting. There’s a softness to him now, a slowness, like he’s choosing me deliberately, one moment at a time. I’ll remember the beginning of our story enough for the both of us, and we can focus on writing the rest together.

Between the comfort of the cozy fire and Jackson’s strong arms around me, my eyelids struggle to stay open. I yawn, eyes watering, and snuggle in closer to feel Jackson’s heavy heartbeat on the side of my face. It’s a low, lulling echo that has put our kids—and me—to sleep many times.

“Roll over, Kit.” His husky voice drags me from my half-asleep state.

“Huh?” I mumble.

“You wanted to sleep with me inside you, right? Roll onto your side.”

I blink up at him, eyes burning. I must’ve been more than half-asleep, because I missed him reaching to turn off his bedside lamp, and the room’s shrouded in darkness, save for the amber glow from the fireplace.

With a groan, I roll to my side and back my ass into his lap. His arm falls across my torso like a weighted blanket, and a few seconds later his hand’s sliding between my legs. Delicate, gentle touches tease until I feel myself becoming wet, prepped to take him.

His fingertips pressed into the meaty flesh of my thigh, I part my legs, sleepily humming at the feel of his smooth head pressed to my entrance. I faintly hear him spit in his hand, and a few seconds later he’s rocking into me.

The pillow captures my drowsy whimpering. It’s been so long since we’ve slept this way, and for a moment, I wonder how I’ll ever fall asleep with the tempting intrusion rooted in me. But Jackson cuddles up to my back, scoops my hair in his hand to pull it away from my neck, and lovingly kisses me there.

With his hand holding one of my breasts like a comfort item, he breathes heavy and slow over my skin. The dull thud of his heartbeat on my back soothes the lust zipping under my skin. And I fall asleep thinking about how madly in love with my husband I am.

Jackson

I wake to the air being punched from my lungs. I’m hot all over and frenetic with the need to come.

Bleary-eyed, I stare off into the dark and panic washes over me. Everything except my racing heart is paralyzed.

Where the fuck am I?

In the pitch-black room, I smell my wife before I see her. The overwhelming scent of coconut fills my nostrils, and the entire evening comes crashing back.