He smiled. “Of course. But it’s not our wedding anniversary.”
“In two weeks, it will be.”
We got married exactly two weeks after I arrived on his doorstep. It made perfect sense to both of us. Kandi came almost a year later, and we’d stopped there. The thought of having more kids made me feel a little panicky. It took me back to my days in the compound, where the women seemed to constantly be pregnant—and not always by choice.
“You saved me,” I said.
It was easy to forget that sometimes. Our lives were so perfect now, my childhood seemed like another lifetime.
“You saved yourself,” he said. “I just furnished the tacos and the margarita.”
I smiled. “My first taste of alcohol.”
“Sorry about your family.”
We didn’t talk about my family very often, and that was my choice. The cult had been busted up long ago, but my parents started over in a new location with a couple of the leaders who weren’t put in jail for tax evasion. The main leader and his brothers had been given short sentences, so chances were, they’deventually be out. I’d hoped one of my siblings might decide to break free, but that had never happened.
“My family is your family,” he said, reaching over to put his hand on mine.
He was right about that. His mom moved up here soon after Kandi was born to be closer to her son and her granddaughter. And me, of course. She was the mom I’d never had, and I was grateful for her and all the friends I’d made in Wildwood Valley. I’d never take any of this for granted.
“We should celebrate our anniversary,” I said. The anniversary of the first time we…you know.”
I still couldn’t speak crudely. My upbringing was part of who I was, like it or not. But I had no problem getting naked in front of my husband.
And that was exactly what I did. In fact, I only paused to set my wine glass on the table next to me before whipping off my T-shirt and revealing that I wore nothing but a pair of panties underneath.
He stared for a long moment in silence before setting his own glass aside. By then, I was already working the fastening of his jeans, ready to get down to business. I withdrew his cock and wrapped my mouth around it, taking him in as he shifted to shove his jeans and underwear down to his upper thighs. He groaned as I took him deep, and his hand began moving over my bare back, his fingers sending warmth up and down my spine.
I was the one who moaned when his hand dove beneath the elastic waistband of my pajama shorts, then under the thin cotton of my bikini briefs. Satin and silk weren’t very practical when you spent most of your week raising a four-year-old while also working part-time at the town’s new daycare.
Logan maneuvered me around after running his hand over my butt cheek. Then he slid his fingers over my hip in that way that told me how much he appreciated my curves.
I’d never been more grateful that I married a man who was six foot five with long arms. He nudged my thighs apart and settled his finger on that swollen bud he knew all too well. He moved slowly at first but gradually increased his pace.
Soon, my movements on his shaft were awkward and clumsy. It felt so good, I hummed against his erection.
His breaths were shallow and rough, but his hand never stopped moving. The slow, teasing circles grew more insistent, more knowing, until my legs began to tremble around him.
“Oh my God,” I gasped as my head dropped back.
“That’s it,” he said, voice thick with lust and love. “Let go for me, baby.”
I did. I came against his hand, my entire body pulsing as heat rushed through me. He kept going through it, not letting up until my hips stopped moving.
Just as I lowered my mouth again, wanting to return the favor, he stopped me, gently but firmly. “Not like that. I want you. Now.”
I climbed onto his lap, knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his hips as I guided him inside me. We both groaned at the contact—hot and deep. He filled me completely. His eyes locked onto mine for one breathless moment before drifting lower.
“Jesus,” he whispered, palms sliding up to cup my breasts. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
My hips moved slowly at first, rolling against him in a rhythm we’d created a thousand times, but that somehow still felt brand new. My breasts bounced with every motion, and I didn’t miss the way his gaze darkened. The way he watched every inch of me like he couldn’t believe I was real.
I reached between us, fingers settling on my clit, adding pressure where I needed it most. His hands clamped down on my hips.
“Fuck, baby,” he said. “You do that, I won’t last.”
“I don’t want you to.”
