Well, damn. How can I deny her this?
“Don’t you go thinking things like that. I promise you’re awake. And if you weren’t, I’d find a way to meet you in your dreams and take you with me from there, too.” A light puff of air leaves her lips as I lower onto her. Me, though? I’m fighting back a curse as I settle into the cradle of her thighs. The last thing she needs is a stiff cock poking her in such a vulnerable state, but unfortunately, only my head—the upper one—understands the gravity of the situation.
Mara wiggles her legs until they’re between mine. Now the only parts of her that can truly move are her arms, and she tunnels her hands up my sides until they’re ensnared, too. She sighs again with heavy contentment as the weight of my body essentially forces her taut muscles to relax.
I lower my forehead to hers and match her, breath to breath. “No one’s ever taking you away from me, Mara. Our souls are connected now, and they always will be. That’s why I know that if we hadn’t met when we did, fate would have led me to you later. You’re mine for now and for always.”
CHAPTER 25
MARA
For the next three nights,I’m only able to fall asleep with Warren humming me into drowsiness as he pins me to the bed. Practically, anyway, because he keeps his weight shifted off my chest enough that I can still breathe comfortably. But even then, I’m not sure how restful that sleep is because I wake up listless and exhausted at the prospect of facing the day. Even Warren’s sweet kisses to my forehead aren’t enough to chase away the storm clouds circling my mind as I force myself to throw the covers aside and leave the safety and comfort of our bed in the mornings.
How could they be when every passing day brings me ever closer to the man from my nightmares? Maybe he won’t find out about me if we don’t go into town, but just knowing he’ll be so close makes me want to throw up.
My appetite for food and sex is nonexistent, and I’m fairly certain both Emmaline and Patches are picking up on my emotions because their clinginess has intensified. Warren was right about feelings. It’d be nice if they could simply be wished away, but they have to run their course.
On the fourth morning, it’s much the same as before.But this time, I catch Warren’s frowning reflection in the mirror as I pick the first dress I see and pull it over my head. “What?” I ask, belatedly cringing at my flat tone. In all fairness to him, he doesn’t take offense. But maybe that’s because his eyes are fixed to my waist. He doesn’t say anything as he comes up behind me and gathers the fabric between thumb and forefinger.
Oh. The dress still fits me very well, but perhaps it’s a bit looser than before.
I swallow and cast a glance up at him.
His frown softens as his hands come to my hips and waist, silently measuring them like he did months ago. “We can’t go through this again, Mara.” Warren’s gentleness causes my eyes to sting. “You’ve got to start eating more. Both for yourself and Emmaline.”
“I know,” I say through my tiredness. “I’m trying.” I’m just so exhausted. His arms wrap around me, and I sink backwards into the strength of his embrace.
The fifth day is marginally better as I force myself to eat more than I’m hungry for.
The sixth is much the same.
The seventh day, a beam of sunshine pierces the darkness when Emmaline, my darling baby girl, finally learns how to sit up on her own. Her toothy grin bursts with pride, as if she knows what an accomplishment it is to sit without having a protective hand at her back.
Warren whoops with excitement, and when Emmaline reaches for him, she falls backwards onto Patches, who sniffs at her head in concern. But instead of tears, she breaks out into a fit of contagious giggles as his tongue darts out to lick at her cheek.
It doesn’t escape my notice that I haven’t been intimate with Warren for a week. He hasn’t pushed, even though it’sbeen impossible to ignore his obvious want for me when he blankets me with his warmth, and I almost sink further into my depression when I realize that with my husband, I’m allowed to actually experience my feelings instead of shoving them down and plastering a semblance of a smile on my face as I welcomed the next man to my bed.
But tonight, with his body touching mine in the darkness, something comes alive within me when he presses his face to my neck and breathes in, just like he’s done every night.
“Good night, wife. Sleep well and know that it’s my arms holding you.” The gentle scrape of a day’s worth of bristles and the low vibration of his words make me shiver. He smooths a soft kiss over the tender skin of my neck, and it’s then that the spark erupts into a fire as my senses roar to life.
I moan—just a small sound—but every inch of him stills when he hears it. I bite my lip and hope he does it again. As close as we are, the pounding of his heart dances with mine. He starts to pull away, but I lock my arms around him and urge him back down.
“Mara.”
There’s an unspoken question in the hushed way he speaks my name, and I answer him by softly dragging my fingernails in a line from his neck to the base of his back in silent invitation.
“Fuck, Mara,” he growls. His arms tremble from the strain of holding back before he gives in and nuzzles my head aside to kiss the length of my neck. I close my eyes in bliss and let my fingertips learn the muscled shape of Warren’s back and shoulders all over again as his caresses grow more fevered.
“I missed being with you like this, wife,” he managesbetween tiny kisses that travel across my jawline and over to my waiting lips. “Don’t shut me out like that again.”
“I won’t,” I rasp through strained emotions. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, darlin’. I know.”
Those are the last words we speak before losing ourselves in each other. Somehow my nightgown disappears while his trousers are kicked off, and we come together in a sweet slide of bare skin. Warren’s thighs bracket mine, holding them captive as he enters me, and his low groan lights up my insides. My hands wind up shackled on either side of my head, slim fingers interlocked with thicker ones as he makes me his all over again. His pace is slow but with a restrained urgency that roughens each thrust.
Although my body is caged by his, there’s a freedom in his embrace. Everything I’d suppressed in the last week…fear, anger, despair, and now the all-consuming love for the man inside of me…surges to the top and escapes in a soundless trickle of tears. I don’t know if I can find release in this emotional state, but I don’t care. I need this closeness with my husband.
