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Whiskey’s moved me to his hotel room—all my things are here. I’ve noticed he likes to do that, move me around to his liking.
At first, I thought it was annoying, but now I kind of like it. I like the way he stares at me when he thinks I’m not looking. The way he grabs my hand when I’m not paying attention.
He’s done a lot of wrongs to me, and my trust for him will have to be built and earned. But when I lie on his stomach, I see those whiskey-colored eyes and smile.
“It’s not going to be easy.”
“Nothing good ever comes easy.”
“There’s going to be days I will hate you.”
“I can handle whatever you throw at me,” is all he replies.
“Even if it’s just me?” I ask him, wanting to know how he feels.
He brushes a hair from my face. “Definitely, if it’s just you.”
I rest my head on his chest. His fingers keep brushing through my red hair. My hands touch his sides, and I slide up his shirt until they touch his bare skin.
“Bunny.”
I smile on his chest.
Whiskey reaches under my arms and pulls me up, sliding me until our faces are close. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
I bite my lip. “You are my husband, are you not?”
“I am,” he answers, his eyes growing dark.
“Well, I just want to touch my husband, that’s all.”
He puts his hands to his sides. “Touch away.” He smirks as I lift his shirt and then straddle him. My hands roam up and down his tanned skin, feeling the ripples underneath my fingers.
“When do you work out?” I ask.
“Every morning. I became addicted after my father died. It was my outlet, but a little fiery red head ruined that for me on a workout bench, now when I look at it, I see her naked.”
I move back on his body, feeling him harden underneath me.
“We can always do it again, in the gym.” I tug at his top “I think this is unfair. One of us has our top off while the other doesn’t.”
“Does this feel weird?” I ask him, my hand coming to a stop.
“What?”
“Us,” I answer truthfully.
“No. It feels like the most natural thing I’ve ever done,” he says it with so much confidence it’s hard not to believe him. I wonder if I will feel the same way some day. His hand touches my face. “It’s fine for you to have doubts. You’d be silly to trust me. And you aren’t a silly girl, just a girl who does things for those she loves.”
“It’s going to take time,” I say, defending myself.
“Time is fine. Time I can give.”
I lean down and kiss him; he takes charge and wraps me in his arms as my body falls onto him. Soon we become all hands and mouths, touching, and kissing everywhere. My pants end up on the floor, and so do his.
I push him down and climb onto his lap. “Time is all I can give,” I say as I lower myself onto him. My head drops back, and his hands grab each breast, gently squeezing them, pinching the nipple before I start to move.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
