Page 93 of Love Wells Kept

“Kiss me, Kate.”

My wife tips her head, and I finally catch a glimpse of her eyes. Full of desire. Need. Love. Pummeling into her with enough force she’ll feel me between her legs for the rest of this trip, I grab her chin in my abrasive grasp and capture her mouth with mine. My balls slap back and forth between us, heavy and full of cum that I plan to pump into her. Lust let loose, it’s fair to say we devour each other.

She falls apart in my arms with a convulsion that shakes the entire bed, and I hold tight around her torso to keep her against me while I fuck her into blissful oblivion. It’s not enough for her to come; I want my wife to come so hard, there’s a moment when we’re both without any memory beyond each other now.

She sobs my name, hips ricocheting back into me as her climax keeps coming in unrelenting waves.

My heart thunders so hard, there’s no way it’s a safe rhythm. Heat coils in my spine, and I let myself have it as primal grunts rumble through the night air. White sparks blur my vision when I surge my cock in one final time, spilling inside my wife’s beautiful pussy. With a stuttering breath, I give my hips a tiny writhe, emptying the last drops.

Our conversation about birth control earlier tonight was brief—she’s not on it, neither of us want her to be. And maybe a few weeks ago, that thought would’ve left me feeling panicky and even more certain I’d end up letting her down. But that’s exactly why I wasn’t having sex with her then. Now I can’t help but smile at the thought of getting to experience everything I forgot with Odessa and Rhett—not that I wouldn’t kill to remember feeling them kick from inside Kate’s belly or holding them tight to my chest as infants.

Kate pads slowly, wobbly, to the bathroom, returning seconds later and snuggling under the covers. I don’t ask about sliding back inside her, because my dick’s so sensitive the simple brush of soft sheets across it makes my entire body shudder.

So I hold her tight, smooth a rough hand over her wild hair, and dust kisses on her shoulder. She molds into me with an adorable little sigh. And as her breathing becomes slow and easy, I lie there wondering what on Earth I did to deserve this moment—to deserve her. Nothing made sense until I had her in my arms.

In the seconds before I drift to sleep, I whisper an “I love you” against her skin. And I mean it.

—

Steam curls off the water, blurring the edges of the world until it feels like we’re the only two people left in it. My fingers drag languid loops across the surface of the pool, and I roll my neck to fight the lingering headache. Whether it was all the junk food we ate last night, the sex, the wine, or just shitty luck, I woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a freight train.

When Kate woke up, she found me sitting on the bathroom floor with my head between my knees, fighting like hell not to throw up. All I wanted was some one-on-one time with my wife. I wanted to reconnect and finally feel like husband and wife, rather than patient and care aide. But one night of bliss was all the higher powers bothered to afford me, I guess.

After a bit of bullying on Kate’s part, I let her order me toast from the on-site restaurant. I ate it with minor irritated grumbling sounds and reluctantly let her waste the first few hours of our only full day here taking care of me. Water, medication, scalp massages…

Eventually, I got the idea that I needed to bully her right back. And I forced her to take an uninterrupted soak in the hot springs while I slept. The nap transformed my headache from a sledgehammer wailing against my skull to a child’s plastic mallet.

By late afternoon, I’m finally getting to see my wife in a bikini.

Kate’s across from me, legs stretched out under the water, arms propped on the pool’s edge. Her hair’s pulled up in that messy knot she always does when she doesn’t want to fuss with it, a few damp tendrils curling down the back of her neck. Her skin, flushed from the heat, glows in the soft light, and a few droplets of water cling to her collarbone. And that bikini…God help me. I don’t know who I used to be, but I know who I am right now, and I’d give anything to lean over and undo every knot holding it together.

“You’re staring,” she says.

I grin. “You’re not wrong.”

She flicks a little water my way. It hits my collarbone and neck, warm and teasing, sliding down over the branded scar I still forget is there sometimes—apparently my brothers, Dad, Red, and I all have the cattle ranch’s brand permanently scarred on our chests. Insane.

Her gaze follows the trail it makes.

“You okay?” she asks after a beat.

“Better now.” I sink a little deeper and reach up to wipe sweat from my brow. “Thank you for earlier. I…I hate that you have to keep stepping in to take care of me.”

“I don’t hate it at all. You know how many times you had to do the same for me when I was pregnant with Rhett and so sick I’d camp out on the bathroom floor for hours every day?” Her feet float to the surface, and cute painted toes poke out above the water for a second before she pushes them back down. “I love you on the good days, the bad days, and every single one in between. I wasn’t lying when I said we can handle the rough moments—all I care about is having you here now.”

“All I care about is being here now, too.” Things have been so heavy and emotional since I started really opening up about my feelings, and right now, I want a relaxing, flirty afternoon with my wife. So I clear my throat and steer the conversation another way. “Honestly kicking myself for not pushing through the pain and coming to the pool sooner. Pissed I missed valuable bikini time.”

“But you got a lot of birthday suit time in.”

“My favorite thing you’ve ever worn. You should rock that suit all the time.”

She snorts at that. “In a house with cowboys traipsing in and out constantly? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe it’s time we do some renovations—build a wing on the house with no cowboys allowed. Only me, you, and that sexy outfit,” I tease in a low, husky tone, gliding through the water to sit closer.

“If you’re going to lock me away, make sure there’s a snack bar.” She closes her eyes, pulling her arms from the edge and sinking up to her chin in the water. “And a real big bathtub.”

Water gently laps around us, and our shoulders and knees brush. She’s so tranquil as she soaks, arms suspended effortlessly in the hot water, dark curls of hair kissing the surface. Wired similarly to our high-energy, brazen daughter, Kate usually doesn’t look this calm outside of sleep, but there’s something different in her this weekend. She seems at peace with where things are—genuinely happy—like she’s finally stopped waiting for me to be who I was, and started letting herself enjoy who I’m becoming. I feel it in the way she lets me come close without pulling away.