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"Stop treating me like a doll, Porter. I'm fine."
"I know," Porter grumbles, nuzzling my neck. "But I can't help it."
The cafe is just a few doors down, but Porter has me pressed up against a brick wall before I know it, kissing me senseless. It's not until a passerby whistles that I laugh, breaking away and tugging him along. "You're going to get us in trouble!"
"Ha. It would be everyone else who would be in trouble if they tried to get a look at my wife, the hottest woman in the entire fucking world."
I laugh again, but this time it's a little strained. After three kids, my body isn't what it once was, and I've been self-conscious about being so much curvier. Not that Porter has ever complained, but he's still built like a god. Sometimes it makes me wonder if he misses my old body.
Porter, of course, seems to always be able to read my thoughts from my face. "What's wrong?"
I sigh. "Just thinking. The past year has been great, but?—"
Porter frowns. "But what? Bailey, are you unhappy?"
"No! No, not at all," I protest, looping my arm through his. "Just worried you might be."
"Worried that I…why would I be unhappy?" Porter looks honestly baffled, which makes me feel even dumber about my worries.
We stop walking, and I take both of his hands, needing the comfort of his touch. "I know I don't look the way I used to. I just want to make sure you're still attracted to me."
Porter's amber eyes go molten, his fingers lacing through mine. "Bailey Brooks, you are the most stunning, breathtaking, sexy woman in the world. In the entire fucking universe. You could be 500 years older and I'd still want to fuck you five times a day."
Well, he certainly put that to rest. My cheeks flush, and he kisses my forehead, grinning. "Got rid of those worries, didn't I? Listen, baby, if anything, I like your body even more now. Now I know I can fuck you as hard as I want without hurting you."
Oh. He's right. Since having Emily, I have noticed a difference. Porter's...Well, Porter.
Porter leans closer, his lips brushing my ear. "Besides, the best part about your body isn't what it looks like—it's what it can take."
My heart thuds so loudly I'm sure he can hear it. I look up at him, into his amber eyes. "What...what can my body take?"
"Everything, baby girl," Porter growls, his hand tightening around mine. "Everything. And I can't fucking wait to show you."
"My office has a table for physical therapy," I tell him, feeling flushed all over. "Forget coffee. Let's go try it out."
The End.
