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“I’ll only be mad if you left all your stamina in the hall,” she said as she stroked her knuckles down the side of my face. My stomach clenched at the soft caress.

“I’ll always have stamina for you.” I peeled her top over her head and made quick work of her bra. God, she was gorgeous.

“Now, you,” she murmured.

“No way. You’re my treat for giving up fighting. I’m going to take my time.” I bent my head toward her breast.

She pushed against my shoulders, and I looked back at her face. “What?”

“Honey, you have to stop for yourself.” She bit her lip.

“Chloe, it’s okay. I get it. After. I promise that afterward I’ll explain everything. Right now, I just need to claim you. I know that sounds primitive, but I want you… No. I need you to know that you’re mine. I choose you. The person you are today, and the person you’ll be fifty years from now.”

I saw tears well in her eyes.

“No, sweetheart, don’t cry.”

“Then don’t keep saying such sweet stuff,” she sniffed.

I bent low and kissed around her rose-colored nipple. I licked and blew and did everything but take that needy bud of flesh into my mouth. Soon she was wiggling all over the bed, with her hands in my hair, begging me for more. Begging me to ‘do it right.’

I laughed, then tortured her other breast in the exact same manner. As I did, I worked the buckle holding up her shorts, and had her belt, shorts, and panties off in no time. This time, she wasn’t wiggling, she was arching up to my hand. My baby always knew what she wanted here in our bed. Then she surprised me by rolling away until she was on the other side of the bed.

“What?”

She knelt up and I swallowed my tongue. I lay there drinking in the sight of my naked wife. I really wished I was the type of guy who could write poetry, because she deserved poems to be written about her.

She pointed her finger at me. “If I’m naked in this bed, then you need to be naked,” she decreed.

“I like that rule.” But first I hopped off the bed for just a moment, so I could unbuckle my belt and pull off my jeans, jockey shorts, and socks. Then I pulled my shirt off over my head. I hid my wince as the tee covered my face.

“Oh, Zarek,” she whispered. She sounded so sad.

“It’s really not that bad,” I said as I knelt back up on the bed.

“Yes. Yes it is. Did you have Fletcher take a look at everything? What did he say?”

“I had a professional look me over,” I assured her.

She snorted. “Don’t think that kind of sneaky bullshit answer is going to fly. I know what you’re really saying is that the professional who looked you over was you.”

Fuck!

“Maybe.”

“Maybe before we do anything you should get checked⁠—”

I pounced and took her down to the bed and she giggled. “Okay, maybe not,” she continued to giggle.

“Damn right, maybe not. The only thing Fletcher would find if he examined me now would be a serious case of blue balls.”

Chloe continued to giggle. It was perfect. So many of our nights had been spent in this bed, sharing our thoughts and dreams, sharing our laughter and fears. Hearing her laugh like this, something I hadn’t heard for over eight months, made me ache with joy.

We finally fell together like children, laughing, out of breath. I picked up a strand of her hair and rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger. I wanted to tell her this was it. That we were starting over. God, I wanted to say it. I felt it. But I knew it was too soon.

“I love you.”

She leaned up, then carefully straddled my hips, so she wasn’t pressing on any part of me that hurt. She looked into my eyes. “I love you, Zarek Post.”