I’m not so resistant now to the thought of a baby with him once Emmaline is a little older, but I push it aside for now. “Where on earth would we put another one? You still have to build more rooms for the ones we have now!”
“All right, all right,” he grumbles playfully. “I’ll start adding on rooms tomorrow. I’m thinking eight should do it, how ‘bout you?”
“Eight?” I pinch his nipple, but instead of a yelp, a low groan leaves his mouth.
“Wife…” His warning isn’t much of a warning because I recognize that tone. It’s very reminiscent of a man who has fully recovered.
I think I’m feeling a bit recovered myself.
Mind made up, I push off his lap.
“What on earth are you doing?” His bewilderment is clear as I straddle the chair’s arms, but his own arms instinctively wrap around to stabilize me. “And out in the open, no less.”
“Do you not recall how you took me in front of God and all the angels against the house just now?” I tease. “And we both know you’d never let anyone see me like this.”
“Damn right, I won’t.” His arms tighten.
“You seemed to regret not paying attention to my breasts before,” I tell him as my fingers move to the front of my dress. “And I think it’s only fair that you do penance for it.”
“Is that right?”
At the very male interest in his slow drawl, my traitorous heart thuds against my ribs as if this man hadn’t already brought me to heaven twice before. How lucky of a woman am I? “Yes, that’s right.”
“And what must I do to earn your forgiveness, hmm?” His knuckles skim over the tops of my breasts as I bare them in the moonkissed darkness. “Maybe fill my hands with these and brush my thumbs over the tips?”
“Maybe so. It’s worth trying, at least.” I don’t think I come off as unbothered as I had hoped to. When Warren takes hold of my breasts and caresses the tips with therough pads of his thumbs, I almost lose my balance at the rush of intense pleasure. It really does seem as if my nipples are connected to my lower half whenever they receive his attentions.
“Woman!” he says, stopping with a low laugh. “We can’t do this if you’re gonna fall off.”
“I won’t fall off if you hold me.”
“Then how am I gonna pay my penance if I can’t use my hands?”
I slip my hands under his shirt and lightly scratch at his own flat discs. “God gave you a mouth to be used for something other than talking like you are right now,” I remind him, purposely shifting to tempt his mouth with a nipple.
“Fuck, wife. You don’t mince words,” he chuckles on a strained breath as his cock kicks. “But I think I like you a little feral like this. And I think you like it, too.”
I think he might be right.
As he latches on and drinks his pleasure from me, I press his head to my chest, eyes drifting shut as we lazily rock back and forth in the still of the night. I love the closeness of this act, the glowing warmth of intimacy it brings even without him being inside me.
More than that, I love him.
And I tell him over and over again as he more than pays his penance.
EPILOGUE 1
Mara
Six years later
“Charlotte LaRue rodein on the gale, singing…” Emmaline bellows the lyrics of the bawdy song—much to my dismay—as she plays a game of checkers by herself.
“Emmaline Hazel Shay!” I scold from the sofa. “Sing a different song, please.”
“But I like that one.” Her lips turn down into a pout. Good Christ, Warren is right when he says she’s the spitting image of me when she frowns like that.
“I can’t believe you taught that song to our daughter,” I murmur beneath my breath as I side eye my husband.
