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“Oh shit,” I hissed, not ready for him to go so deep so fast, but there he was. Blinding me with jolts of white lightning. The kind of intensity that seared us together. Forever.
“Oh baby,” he grunted, working up a sweat as he pumped in and out.
I clawed at the bed for more friction. For a base to launch myself. I could take it. Go deeper. Go harder. These were the days I was reminded how amazing it was to be in bed with my husband. Whether it was the middle of a holiday. Or after midnight. Or after we had spent a day working in the yard. After dinner. Before coffee. In the shower. Out of the shower. Our bodies had and always would be bound in a way that was indescribable.
I felt my core quiver and vibrate.
“It’s too much,” I whimpered. I was going to shatter in a glittery orgasm. One of those Eiffel Tower orgasms. I knew what his reponse would be.
“It’s not enough,” he grunted.
“Ohh.” I panted for the climax to hit me. It was already spiraling. Consuming me in flames that licked my veins.
Vaughn rammed his cock one last time, hilting himself inside me as we both screamed out from the pleasure and the pain. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak as the orgasm canvased my skin and numbed my toes.
He pumped his release inside me, only taking our bodies to the bed when he was finished. Complete.
“Mmm. I love fucking you.” He kissed my temple.
I curled my knees against me and rolled toward his chest. “Well, I actually love you,” I teased.
He laughed. “I love you too, smartass. The act and the feeling.” He smacked my bottom playfully.
“You were so deep,” I added. My body was still heated. Still coated in a thin layer of perspiration.
“You ok?” he asked. “Was it too much?”
I shook my head. “You realize if I get pregnant on the first try we aren’t going to have much practice time.”
He laughed. “Now you’re complaining I’m too good at getting you pregnant?”
I giggled. “I didn’t say that.”
I didn’t want to move. I wanted to lie in bed for the rest of the day, but it was Thanksgiving and I was determined to start our real married life with actual traditions. Raise our children in a family that celebrated and came together. We had a long way to go to bring our parents and siblings into the fold, but Vaughn had a plan for that. I trusted him it would take time to make the pieces fit. Timing was everything. Agent Kenneth hadn’t given up looking fo
r both of us.
Although we had left the FBI a gift. It took weeks for us to finally get the information on how the Sunday after we left played out. In those weeks it was hard to think about anything other than whether our planned worked. I had lost another five pounds, unable to eat or sleep.
But my husband was a mastermind. Brilliant, really. Agent Kenneth, unable to find us at the hotel, traced our steps back to the flat. Instead of raiding it, he waited. I always wondered if he had been too exhausted from traveling. Maybe it was an accident, after all. What if he had just happened to fall asleep on our couch? It doesn’t matter, because he was there when Blackwing came for the documents in the wine fridge closet. In one swoop, he got everything: two members of Blackwing and an entire closet full of secret documents. Documents that exposed Blackwing’s plan to target Paul Auclair for the sale of his formulas.
Vaughn had detailed the espionage and Riker’s ultimate use for Paul’s research. Masking drug use. Altering athlete performance. Rigging competition on a national and international scale. It was a huge story no matter where you were in the world. Riker collapsed. Agent Kenneth gained notoriety he wasn’t looking for.
We sailed on, pleased the plan had come together. My only regret was that Eloise wasn’t the one captured. She was still out there.
Vaughn kissed my shoulder. “What can I do to help you with dinner?” he asked.
“We aren’t going back in the kitchen until we both take showers,” I lectured. “You taste like salt.” I licked his chest with the tip of my tongue. “Mmm.” I grinned. “Showers and then I’ll let you mash the potatoes.”
“Got it.” He rolled out of bed and started the water.
I liked our bedroom. There wasn’t a fancy chandelier or vanity that cost two thousand dollars. The furniture was white and most of the décor came from things we bought on the island. I dragged myself out of bed and padded off to the shower, passing my favorite piece of art in the room.
I stopped and stared at it for a few seconds. Aubrey’s signature was scrawled across the bottom. It had been a surprise from Vaughn for my birthday. He wanted to mark twenty-nine with something significant. He knew I couldn’t let Kate Birch go completely. How could I?
I never knew if Aubrey received my letter. I wanted to believe it brought her some sense of solace if she ever read it. I did read online that she opened her gallery, and on the first night of her showing she sold all her canvases to benefit the children’s home in Paris.
By the time I opened the door, the steam funneled into the bedroom. The water was hot. Vaughn was waiting in the shower.
