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I tilt my head up to him, and he smiles, kissing my nose.
“There’s my girl.”
“Hi.” I breathe. “I’m sor—”
“Do not apologize,” he cuts in. “Think of this like another lesson in your training.”
“You want me to view our sex life as training?” I mumble, wholly relaxed.
His warm chuckle filters through the air as his hands rove all over me, massaging my muscles beneath the suds. “Yes. In part. There are times to be a force, times to submit, and times to say you’ve had enough. It’s all okay. All important.”
“I thought you liked using me, owning me. Being a force and sayingI’ve had enoughdon’t really align with that,” I counter.
“They do. You’re mine in every way, Little Storm. Out there, I worship you as my queen, and in here, I make you my slut. But only because queen by day and slut by night works for us both. Which is why, wherever we are, I need you to tell me if something’s too much. Because you’re my priority. Always. Understand?”
I nod, but the lack of verbal confirmation has him pressing for more, gripping my chin so I look at him again.
“Tell me you know there is nothing more important to me than you. No matter what else happens, I need you to know that.”
The vulnerability in his face is almost haunting, as if his emotions are teeming inside him, like mine are. There’s no denying the truth in his declaration, which wrecks me further, in the best of ways.
“I know I’m your greatest priority,” I assure him. “My gut shouts it. It’s what scared me, the way I feel about you. Sometimes, I don’t understand this between us. It came out of nowhere. How did I find you?”
His features contort with an emotion I can’t identify. “It’s the other way around, baby. A million-dollar question.”
“Thank you.” I lean my head back against his solid chest, scratching my fingers over his thighs while he continues kneading my muscles. “Why do you care if I touch myself?”
“I’m not against you making yourself feel good. If we had to be apart for a while, it would be different. But I’m selfish, Ivy. I want the moments—your noises and smiles and pleas. Your pleasure and joy. I want the intimacy with you.”
I blow out a breath, overcome with how fortunate I am. “Wow. That’s a good reason.” My eyes find his over my shoulder. “How long until you have to get back to work this morning?”
“I’m all yours today.”
My heart leaps. “You’re taking a day off?”
Wells never takes a day off, not even in New Orleans.
“Yes.” His arms clasp around me, nose nuzzling my neck. “I’m right where I want to be. We can do whatever you want.”
“Really? Whatever I want?” I twist to see him better, waggling my brow.
“Yep. We can watch a sappy rom-com, read a book together, bake something. You name it.”
Oh hell. He really means a day for me.“All of the above.”
He kisses me on the cheek, smiling so brightly in my peripheral vision, as though he hasn’t a care in the world. “Done.”
Craning my neck, I let my gaze meander over his features—strong jaw, impeccably manicured two-day scruff, bright emerald eyes, rimmed with thick, dark lashes and contrasting against his golden skin and raven-black hair. A masterpiece.
I turn back to the bubbles, building a foamy monument before us. “Someday, I’d like to paint you.”
“Hmm.” He steals my suds, working them into my hair, fingertips scraping against my scalp. “Nude?”
“No.” I laugh. “That godlike, sculpted physique is for my eyes only. But I’d like to paint you in a suit. I don’t usually paintpeople—primarily, it’s places I dream about—but you’ve invaded those more than any geographical location, real or imagined, and you’re so beautiful.”
He threads his fingers into my wet strands, tipping my chin to him and curling around me. His tongue rolls against mine for a kiss so passionate that I lose my breath, frantically twisting myself to straddle him, our bodies compressing to become one.
He makes it clear sex is off the table today, so when we get out of the bath, he insists I replenish with a sports drink while he prepares breakfast—coffee and omelets with a side of Skittles that we eat in bed while watchingThe Wedding PlannerandThe Wedding Singer. If he wasn’t already married to me, my choices may be alarming, but thankfully, we’re beyond that.
