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“I hope that was a good sigh,” Chase said as he poured himself another cup of coffee. “What are you thinking about?”
I nodded as I swallowed. “A very happy sigh. I was just thinking about the last few months. I had no idea it was even possible to be this happy. I’ve definitely found myjoie de vivre.”
Chase shot me a wicked grin. “I think I’ve had mine back since the moment you decided to join me in the shower for the first time.”
I smiled because I couldn’t help myself. He was so outrageous with his naughty comments sometimes, and I heard a lot of them.
After our disagreement about the way he’d handled that horrible incident in the restaurant parking lot, Chase had relaxed significantly. Not that he wasn’t constantly watching out for my safety, but he had regained his sense of humor and playfulness.
“You’re insatiable,” I said with a laugh.
“I warned you about what happens every time I look at you,” he shot back with an even wider grin. “You weren’t complaining about that earlier.”
Nope. I certainly hadn’t. I’d never thought of myself as a woman who loved morning sex. Then again, that was before I’d woken up beside a man like Chase Durand every morning.
For us, pretty much anytime we were together, and in almostanyroom, it seemed like the perfect time to get naked.
I really doubted that would change much after our honeymoon since it had pretty much been the same way since the beginning.
My heart skittered as I reminded him, “You’re looking at me right now.”
He raised a brow like he was trying to figure out whether that was an invitation.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” I said with an actual giggle as I tossed my napkin at him. “I’m showered and ready to go to the Louvre. No funny stuff.”
I’d gotten a shower while Chase had arranged our breakfast, much to my husband’s dismay. Since we weren’t showering together, he’d gotten ready himself in record time before we’d sat down to eat.
“Since I know how much you’re looking forward to the museum, I guess I can be patient,” he complained jokingly.
I swallowed hard, almost regretting my insistence as I watched him tear into another croissant.
He was dressed casually in jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt, a sure sign that he was over being self-conscious about the small amount of scarring people could see when he didn’t wear a long-sleeved shirt.Thank God.
It probably helped that no one stared. No one looked at those marks in horror and ran away.
He’d finally realized no one even noticed, or if they did, it wasn’t a big deal.
My heart squeezed just seeing how at ease he seemed about those scars now, like he really didn’t think much about them anymore.
I didn’t let mine bother me, either. Chase thought I was beautiful, and he was the only man who would ever matter.
“I love you,” I told him softly, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth.
There were times when the way I felt about him was overwhelming, and it made me want to cry.
Since I knew he’d much rather hear those words than see a tear on my face, the words just popped out without any real thought.
He swallowed the last of his croissant, rose from his seat and snagged me from the chair. He pulled me into his lap as he sat down again.
Wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, he said huskily, “I love you, too, Vanna.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my cheek against the side of his head. We just sat there like that for a minute, savoring the intimacy, entwined together.
It wasn’t the first time we’d done this and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
When words just weren’t enough, or when we felt the vulnerability of such raw emotion, we took comfort in just being connected in some way.
It wasn’t really sexual.
