I feel a grin surfacing. “You’re such a drama queen.”
“There is nothing dramatic about being worried when my wife throws up after I’ve just thrust my cock in her mouth.”
I burst into laughter. My head falls back, my eyes close, and I laugh. Really hard. I have tears and all. I can’t stop, and he lets me have my moment, waiting patiently with my toothbrush hovering in front of my mouth. “I’m sorry!” I chuckle. “I’m really sorry.” I wipe my eyes and home straight in on a pair of curious greens, a raised brow, and a chewed lip.
“I’m glad you find it amusing. Open your mouth.”
I let my jaw drop open and he sets about brushing my teeth for me before running a cool washcloth over my brow and then scooping me up and transporting me to the bed. My eyes widen when I see the mangled headboard with strips of wood all splintered and hanging off. He’s trampled the bed.
“In you get.” He places me on the edge, and I waste no time crawling up and snuggling down, letting out a long, contented sigh as I turn over and watch him undress, my greedy gaze drinking in his perfection.
“I can’t believe I’m spending my first night as your wife in one of your torture chambers.” The unpleasant thought has me shifting slightly and wondering who has been in this bed and what has gone down. I want to get out.
He knows what I’m thinking. “No one has slept in this bed, Ava.”
I frown. “They’ve not?”
He smiles as he shrugs his shirt off. “No one has been in this room since I cornered you.” He’s watching me closely. “And the bed’s new.”
“Really?” I blurt, a little shocked.
He laughs. “Really.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not having you in a bed that others have…” His frown line surfaces again. “Frequented.”
“And no one has been in this room since me?”
He kicks his trousers off and draws his boxers down his legs. “Only me. Get your underwear off. I want you naked.”
I reach down and push my knickers from my legs. “Did you sit in here quietly and think about me?” I ask on a grin.
He strides over to a unit of drawers and pulls the top one open. “More than you know,” he answers quietly, turning and holding up a bra.
“That’s my bra!” I blurt. I have a sudden flurry of flashbacks. I left my bra when I ran, and he stored it there all this time?
He chucks it on the top of the drawers and shrugs sheepishly, then paces over to the bed and slips in beside me. I immediately crawl onto his chest and settle myself all over him, my face nuzzling straight into his neck.
“Comfy?”
“Hmmm,” I hum, my hands wandering all over the place, needing to feel him and relish in the flesh-on-flesh contact. He sat in here quietly and thought of me. He kept my bra. No one has been in here, except me. And he’s replaced the bed.
“How do you feel?” he asks, letting me smother him.
“I’m fine.” I sigh.
He matches my sigh. “She’s fine.” I’m held tighter, his heartbeat thumping against my breastbone. “Go to sleep, my beautiful girl.”
And I do. My eyes slowly close and I’m gone.
Chapter Six
I open my eyes and stretch. It’s an over-the-top, completely contented extension of my body all over the bed. Then I smile to myself, listening to him in the bathroom—the sound of the tap jetting out streams of hot water, him collecting all of the cosmetics he’ll need, and then the unmistakable sound of him swishing the water to instigate some bubbles. My self-professed bath man is keeping to his word. We’re going to have a long soak in the bath and undoubtedly some tub-talk while we’re there. Do I want tub-talk today?
Shuffling myself to the edge of the gigantic bed, I take my naked form over to the suite’s bathroom and lean up against the door frame. He’s sitting on a chair by the window, elbows resting on his knees, looking out across The Manor’s grounds. He’s naked too, every finely tuned muscle protruding from his back and his dark blond hair damp from the condensation filling the vast space. I could stand all day and watch him, but even from here and with his back to me, I can see the cogs of his mind racing at a hundred miles per hour. He’s probably thinking about my denial, and he’s undoubtedly thinking about how he can keep me at home. It’s Monday tomorrow.
My unreasonable, challenging, neurotic control freak.
My ex-playboy.
And now my husband.
I need to touch him.
I approach quietly, my eyes getting more delighted the closer I get, my skin starting to prickle with the usual sparks that simmer between our bodies. “I know when you’re near, beautiful girl.” He doesn’t look around. “You’ll never get away with that.”