He chuckled.
There’d not been much to laugh about until meeting her. She showed him the humor in life, in the simple things. He loved her joyful giggle, her jokes.
He suspected his subconscious had known what he hadn’t. She was a woman worth keeping, one who could bring him happiness and a reason to live beyond existence. His subconscious had insisted he search for her when reason and experience had said it was pointless.
Yes, he was damn glad he married her.
“It ain’t over yet,” he said, hardening again.
“Ooh, more coming attractions?” She tightened her muscles around his cock.
“You know it, Wife.”
Chapter Nine
“Somebody’s happy,” Darmaine said.
“Why do you say that?” Squinting, Amity inspected her crocheting.Almost done.She’d been working on it for days—had had to unravel it once and start over—but it was coming together.
“You’ve been humming all day.”
She’d spent the morning on the loom, finishing off a blanket. During lunch, she’d resumed her work on her personal project.
“Have I?” She couldn’t prevent a grin. The sky seemed bluer, the wind less blustery, the temperature more temperate.Nothing like a night of good sex to put a person in a good mood.Except, it was more than that. The physical intimacy had shifted and solidified their relationship. She felt like they had reached an agreement to move forward together.I guess that’s what consummating a marriage is all about.
“The trip to Fair Shake went well?”
“Yes, it did.” The kiss had changed everything. “Thank you for finagling it.”
“Sometimes men need a little nudge.” She paused. “Women, too.”
“You’re a romantic. A matchmaker at heart.”
“I won’t deny it. I love to see love succeed.”
Were they in love? She didn’t think they were yet, but it looked like it could be a possibility. Marshall had reverted to the man she’d gone out with, less taciturn and stern, more considerate and affectionate. He still didn’t talk much, but she found his brevity amusing. And he talked when it counted—she would never forget how he’d opened up and shared what it was like to be a clone.
While she’d been disappointed by circumstances, his life in Dark Ops had been brutal. By comparison, she’d had it easy. But perhaps together, they could build a happy, harmonious life. They both deserved happiness, and she would do everything she could to ensure they got it. They’d gotten off to a rocky start, but from here on out, it ought to be smooth sailing.
She would finally have the relationship she’d longed for.
I didn’t need Cosmic Mates after all. Thank goodness because boy, did they get it wrong.She recalled the disastrous first date with the Nagarian. She supposed she couldn’t blame the organization entirely—the alien had lied about his origins. She couldn’t control her snake phobia any more than Marshall could help his discomfort with tight spaces.
Although…he did seem to be adapting to the bathroom. He still left the door open, and his showers were super quick, but he no longer looked green around the gills when he left the water closet. Waterclosetaptly described the space so tight she could barely turn around. No wonder it triggered his claustrophobia.
With a flourish, she finished the last stitch, knotted the yarn, and clipped off the tail. “Done!” She held up her project.
“Looks great!” Darmaine said. “Quite ambitious for a first effort. You did well.”
“Thank you for teaching me.”
“Nights are long. It’s a good way to pass the time,” Darmaine said.
For an old married lady maybe. Not a newlywed. She’d squeeze in crochet time on her lunch hour. Nights were reserved for sexier pursuits.
“When you come up for air, I mean.” Darmaine laughed.
* * * *
