Best. Sex. Ever.
She had always assumed, because Luc was so reserved and practical, that he would be the same way in bed. Boy, was she wrong. Hours later she still felt limp as a dishrag and sore in places she didn't know could get sore. If she knew he would be that good she would have jumped him years ago. Just thinking about it was getting her all worked up again. Then she remembered that they forgot to use a condom the first time and her heart sank a little. But Luc was right, the odds were low she would get pregnant. And if she had, they would deal with it. At least they were married. Right?
She sat up and looked around for her phone, finding it in her purse on the floor beside the bed. It was 8:00 a.m., which was early even for her. Sundays were the only days she allowed herself to sleep in. She typically dragged herself out of bed around ten, went for a run around the track at the high school, then showered and sometimes met Lark for brunch. But not today. She looked at the platinum band on the ring finger of her left hand. She was a newlywed. A married woman.
That was going to take some getting used to.
The water shut off, and a minute later she could hear Luc humming to himself-one of those country songs he loved so much-while he shaved. She'd only ever heard him hum when he was in a good mood. And why wouldn't he be after last night?
He would be out of the bathroom any minute now and she really should go to her own room, lest she be tempted to pounce on him. But she wanted to see him. She wrestled with her options, but before she could make a decision, the bathroom door opened and Luc stepped out. And boy was she glad that she stayed. He wore a towel slung low on his hips, his dark hair damp, his face cleanly shaven and smooth. Droplets of water clung to his chest, rolling down his pecs and over those wonderfully ripped abs.
She usually looked like a beast in the morning, her hair askew, pillow creases on her cheek, and she imagined the liner and mascara had smeared under her eyes for that charming raccoon effect, but he'd seen her looking worse.
"Good morning," he said, looking surprised to see her awake.
"G'morning. You're up early."
He shrugged. "Habit."
He was usually at the hospital by 7:00 a.m. to start his rounds, but this was Sunday, not to mention their honeymoon. Technically speaking.
He sat on the edge of the bed beside her and kissed her forehead. If he was put off by her appearance he didn't say so. "Sleep well?"
"Like the dead." When she had finally gotten to sleep, which hadn't been until 3:00 a.m. or so. In typical man style he'd fallen asleep before her, about a half an hour earlier. For a long time she'd lain there wrapped up in his arms, listening to his slow even breaths, wishing they could hit Rewind and relive the night all over again. "How about you? Sleep well?"
"Great. How are you feeling this morning?"
How was she feeling? "A little sore, actually. You gave me quite the workout."
"Jules, I don't mean physically."
She didn't think so. "I'm not having regrets, if that's what you mean. Are you?"
"Nope. I do feel a little guilty for not feeling guilty, if that makes any sense."
"I know exactly what you mean."
"Are you sorry that we can't have a honeymoon?" he asked.
"Not at all. You have responsibilities. We both do. In fact, I was thinking about going into work for a while today."
"You can't."
"Why not?"
"Because I read somewhere that a marriage isn't official unless the newlyweds spend the day after their wedding together."
Oh, so they were going to play this game again. "Did it say what we have to do?"
"We have to have sex again. Then lunch, and maybe a walk in the park. Or we could combine the two and have a picnic, weather permitting."
That sounded like fun. "What then?"
"More sex, of course."
Of course. "And after that?"
"A candlelight dinner."
"Then more sex?"
"Obviously." He shot her one of those steamy smiles. "And we should get started right away. You know, to make it official."
He hooked the edge of the covers and slowly eased them down, revealing her breasts, which were covered in love bites, then her stomach, then the tops of her thighs. Here we go again, she thought, struck by how natural it felt. How comfortable she was with him, as if they had been sleeping together all along. And at the same time it felt exciting and new.
His hand, which was still warm from his shower, came to rest on her thigh, then trailed slowly upward, his touch light, it was barely more than a tickle. Her legs parted, giving him space to play around, but they were interrupted by a firm rap on his bedroom door. He mumbled a curse, removed his hand and pulled the covers back up over her.
"I'll make it quick," he said.
He grabbed his robe from the foot of the bed and tugged it on as he walked to the door. Julie sat and held the blanket up to cover herself.
It was his mother's nurse. She glanced over, saw Julie in the bed and quickly averted her eyes. Julie was surprised Luc had opened the door wide enough to let her see inside.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Wakefield, but I thought you should know that your mother is running a low-grade fever."
A look of concern transformed his face. "How high?"
"Only 99.8. She said that she feels fine, and not to bother you, but I thought you should know."
For the average healthy person a temperature that low wouldn't have been a big deal, but Julie knew that any sign of systemic infection had to be addressed immediately. Elizabeth had barely gotten over the last illness and her body was still weak. Another infection this soon, even something as simple as the common cold could spiral out of control and become deadly.
"Did you check for sores or wounds?" he asked the nurse.
"She wouldn't let me."
Luc sighed and shook his head. "I'll be down there in a minute. And tell her that I told you to check her."
"Yes, sir," she said, and he closed the door, mumbling to himself about his mother being stubborn.
Ever look in a mirror? Julie wanted to say.
"You realize she saw me," she told him.
"I know she did." He stepped into his closet for clothes, seemingly unconcerned.
"What if she tells your mother?" Julie called after him.
"So what if she does?" he called back.
"Didn't you tell her that this isn't a real marriage? That we're still just friends."
"I seem to recall you telling me last night that to make the marriage official we had to have sex." He stepped out wearing jeans and pulling a T-shirt over his head. "Didn't you?"
"You know damn well I made that up to get you into bed. You were being very...uncooperative."
His brows rose. "Is that what I was doing?"
"Don't change the subject. You don't think it will confuse your mother?"
"Her body may be failing her but as you know, her mind is sound."
That was putting it mildly. "I know. I just... I respect her and I don't want her to think I'm slutty."
"For having sex with your husband?"
She shot him a look. "You know what I mean. It might upset her."
"What is she going to do? Ground me? Besides, we're two consenting adults. Married or not, it's still not hers or anyone else's business what we do in bed."
"You know you're impossible."
"I have to go check on her," he said, but he was smiling.
"I'm going to take a shower."
"When I get back we're going to finish what we just started," he said, grinning suggestively as he walked out. If she hadn't already been aroused, that would have definitely done the trick.
She had been a little worried that this morning might be awkward, or involve misplaced guilt and needless justifications. There was nothing more depressing than to wake up with a man and hear why the fantastic sex you had the night before was a mistake. That had happened to her once, and was the precise reason she didn't sleep with men on the first date.
The only thing that seemed to have changed with Luc was that now they both knew what the other looked like naked. Totally naked. Up close and very personal.
And if he was okay with his mother realizing what was going on between them, who was Julie to question it?
Elizabeth, it turned out, had a small scratch on the back of her thigh that had become infected. Because she had no feeling below the waist, she'd had no idea it was there. Which is why daily physical exams, especially after she'd been moved in and out of her chair frequently, were so critical. With such poor circulation, the smallest scratch could become a festering wound overnight.