Wren swallows again, looking terrified.
Finally, I nod. “Makes sense.”
She looks relieved. “I think so.”
“Yeah.” I look around and pat the kitchen counter. “Okay. Jeans off. Bend over. I’ll make it quick.”
She stares at me. Her gaze slides to the counter. Then it comes back to me. “Are you serious?”
I open the fridge and take out a bottle of champagne and a carton of orange juice. “Find some glasses. Let’s eat out on the deck.”
“But—”
I close the fridge and fix her with a firm stare. “Wren, for God’s sake, you’re makingmenervous. Look, when we finally make love, it’s going to be slow, and sexy, and absolutely amazing. You won’t be nervous, because I’m going to kiss you until you forget to be terrified. You’re going to love every minute of it. But right now, I think you need some sugar and a tiny bit of alcohol, and a few hours to chill out. Then we’ll get down to business. Okay?”
She nods mutely.
Mumbling under my breath, I carry everything out to the deck, leaving Wren to find the glasses.
Eventually, she comes out and finds me where I’m sitting at a table beneath an umbrella, feet propped on the opposite chair. She puts down two wine glasses, and I open the champagne and half fill them, then top them up with orange juice.
“I wasn’t going to drink today,” she admits.
“Hair of the dog,” I tell her. “Cheers.” I hold up my glass.
She taps hers to it, and we both have a mouthful.
She puts her glass down. Then she rests her elbows on the table, and her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”
I sigh. “Come here.” She doesn’t move, so I lean forward and take her hand and pull it. “Come here.”
“I’ll squash you.”
“Seriously? I’m a big guy, Wren. I carried you into the bedroom yesterday.”
Her eyebrows rise. “Oh, I forgot.”
She lets me pull her up and onto my lap. She curls up and nestles her head in the crook of my neck.
I put my arms around her and rub her back until, slowly, she relaxes against me.
I kiss her hair. “Babe,” I murmur. “Why did you marry me?”
“To make a baby.”
“Is that the only reason?”
She pauses. Then she shakes her head.
“Tell me.”
“Because I like you,” she says.
“Do you? Really? Because if you don’t, we might as well call it a day now and get an annulment. I know you’re afraid of being hurt. And it sounds as if your exes haven’t given you the best time in bed. But I don’t want to have to drag you therekicking and screaming. I honestly wouldn’t have married you if I thought you didn’t find me at least a little bit attractive.”
“I do,” she says, lifting her head.
“Are you sure?”
