Soft morning light filters through the gauzy drapes covering the windows at the back of the cabin. I blink slowly, opening my eyes just to close them again.
With a sigh, I roll over in bed, snuggling into my nice and warm brick wall of a husband. His arm curls around my middle, pulling me tighter against him and his legs tangle with mine. His steady heartbeat thumps beneath my head. I stroke my fingers back and forth across the tattoo decorating his chest, and my head sinks down onto his shoulder.
I imagine this is what Heaven is like, and I never want to leave the warmth and safety of Rhett’s arms.
True to his word, he’s shared everything with me in the past two months. The horrible details of his past, the beatings he used to suffer at his father’s hand, and the emotional abuse that continued for years. He told me about the last phone call he had with his father, and the olive branch he extended.
He also told me about his mother; her kindness and dedication to her children, and the illness that took her away. I finally got to video chat with his brother, and he promised to visit when his team plays the Aces. We also moved Avery in with us. It’s been quite the adventure.
Rhett’s arm tightens a touch more, and his other hand caresses along my back, dips over the small of my back, and squeezes my ass.
Unlike the day after our wedding, I don’t roll away. I don’t fall to the floor. I stay right where I am.
“Good morning, Mrs. Remington.”
Oh, and I changed my last name. It was the first thing I did to celebrate the start of my real marriage.
“Good morning, Mr. Remington.”
He stretches his legs and rolls over, pinning me beneath him. His hands go to mine, and he pins them above my head as he slides a knee between my legs and nudges them open. I shift, framing his hips with my knees and dragging my core over his rock-hard erection.
“Let me guess. Morning wood?” I smirk, batting my eyes and trying to look as innocent as possible. “And it has nothing to do with me?”
He grunts, his grip tightening on my wrists, and his cock rocking against me. “It has everything to do with you. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a dirty liar.”
“Dirty liar, huh?”
“Uh, huh,” he smiles, his little dimple popping out, and I’m practically swooning.
My head falls back, and my eyelids flutter closed as he continues to rock against me, this time going between my folds and bumping my clit with every thrust. I shift and move my hips, getting restless and needing to feel his cock inside me.
He leans down and runs his lips down the length of my neck and then back up, around my jawline and under my ear, and then finally, they meet mine for a kiss. I run my tongue along his bottom lip and suck it into my mouth, biting down softly on the plump flesh and tugging on it.
Rhett groans and takes my mouth like a man possessed. He licks every corner, every crevice. He tangles his tongue with mine, making it—and me, bend to his will. He breathes for me and sets my body on fire. He makes me want him more than air, more than water, more than anything. I want him to own me, dominate me, and use me to pleasure the both of us.
My clit aches and throbs. My pussy flutters, needing to be filled.
He muffles every desperate cry with his mouth, and yet he continues his rocking and refuses to use that beautiful cock of his to fuck me into exhaustion. Instead, he pulls back with a grin.
“We better start getting ready if you want to get to the park as it opens.”
“Rhett…” My body is trembling beneath him, but my voice is steady. “I love you, and I love this surprise weekend, but if you don’t fuck my spine into this mattress in the next five minutes, I’m going to kill you.”
“But it’s Dolly—”
“I know what it is, Remington! I need your—”
That smirk and that little dimple are back as Rhett pulls his hips back and thrusts forward, burying himself inside me. He always makes me feel so full, so good… so completely connected to him.
He drops his mouth back down to mine, and this time when he kisses me, he does it slowly, savoring me. Nipping at my lips and teasing my tongue; a gentle caress that’s a stark contrast to the rhythmic thrust of his hips as he hammers into me.
I moan into his mouth, writhing and bucking beneath him. I tug on my arms but his grip is firm, and he keeps a tight hold on my wrists.
Rhett fucks me faster, deeper. And even though his pace has quickened, almost frenzied, I know he’s displaying his love and devotion for me. I don’t need him to fuck me with slow, languid thrusts. I need him to lose control, to get lost in me. To not hold anything back.
And he doesn’t. He slams into me time and time again. My orgasm hits me out of nowhere, and I’m convulsing around him, breaking our heated kiss to cry out his name. His head comes down into the crook of my neck, and he sucks my skin into his mouth.
He groans my names as he plunges forward and stills, filling me with his cum.
Within seconds he releases my wrists, running his hands down my arms and caressing the sides of my face. He keeps his head buried in my neck, kissing and licking my skin as my breathing starts to slow, and I relax against the mattress.
I run a hand through his hair and down his spine, pressing a brief kiss to the top of his head.
“I fucking love you. I just want you to know that.”
I smile into his hair and chuckle. “I fucking love you too.”
A little over two months later
Fucking football players keep getting in my way.
Granted it’s their stadium, but I don’t care. Not today. Not after receiving a frantic phone call from Ryan Devlin telling me that my wife fainted on the sidelines. Fucking fainted. I’m no medical doctor, but I’m pretty sure that’s not normal.
She called and insisted she was fine, but again, I don’t care. A person just doesn’t faint for no reason at all, and no amount of assurances will make me feel better. Nothing will. Not until I physically lay my eyeballs on her beautiful face.
Ryan and Gunner promised they’d make her lay down in the media room until I got here, and if she’s not there, I will rip them limb from limb.
I barrel down the hallway, speeding past the locker rooms and several bewildered football players before pushing open the door to the media room and practically running inside. Ryan and Gunner let out a string of obscenities, and one of them drops a water bottle, spilling it all over the floor.
I don’t give them a second glance as my eyes narrow on Lucy, who’s sitting up on the couch in the back of the room and looking very startled. I’m talking deer-in-the-headlights startled. But otherwise she looks… good? She certainly doesn’t look like she just passed out twenty minutes ago and these two idiots had to help her back here.
So now I’m worried. Worried that it’s something we can’t see.
“Whoa there, Killer,” Gunner says, putting his hands out, a failed attempt to stop me in my tracks.
I continue my trek forward, batting his hands away and growling. “I appreciate you calling me, but if you continue to stand between me and my wife, I’ll be forced to turn you into football dust.”
“So, touchy,” Ryan murmurs. “Just wanted to let you know she’s okay. She had some water and she’s been resting since we brought her in here.”
I take a deep breath and clap them each on the shoulder. “Thanks, guys.”
“I’m right here! You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not.” Lucy starts to get up from the couch, but when I toss her an unamused look, she sits back down and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Let us know if you need any help,” Ryan laughs, tossing the now empty water bottle in the trash and pointing over his shoulder at Lucy. “She seems like a handful.”
Lucy narrows her eyes at his back and very eloquently flips him the bird as the two of them leave.
Despite her sense of humor and the fact that she looks fine, there’s still a sense of urgency that propels me forward and drops me to the ground at her feet. I stroke my hands up her legs and hug the sides of her hips.
“Please tell me you’re really fine.” I lay my head in her lap and her hand instantly runs through my hair. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to her. I’m not sure I’d ever recover.
“I’m fine.” As my hands tense and tighten on her hips, she sighs and continues. “It was really hot out today, and I didn’t drink enough water.”
Her voice is soft and steady, yet I get the distinct feeling that she’s hesitating to tell me something. That she’s holding back.
“Lucy…” I lift my head and croak.
She huffs, her fingers stilling in my hair. “Fine. There might be another reason, but you can’t—”
“What?” I jump to my feet. “I can’t what?”
“Freak out,” she laughs and gestures to me, “you know, like you’re doing right now.”
“I’m pregnant,” she whispers, her gaze falling to the ground before flicking up hesitantly to meet mine.
Her eyes are brimming with uncertainty, and I fall back to my knees. I’m torn in so many directions. I’m overjoyed because I want to have a family with Lucy, I want to see her pregnant with my child. I want to get her ice cream at all hours of the day and rub her feet when they ache.
But I’m also terrified. I’m scared I won’t know how to be a good father. I’m afraid the anger that lives inside me, that I battle with constantly, will fight its way to the surface. I’m petrified I’ll turn into my father.
Lucy leans forward, her hands framing my face. She rests her forehead against mine and looks so deeply into my eyes, I know she really sees me. “You’re not him, Rhett.”
“But what if—”
“None of us are perfect, so stop trying to be. You are so much better than your father ever was. Despite your grumpy exterior, you have a huge heart. You stand up for the underdog and you fight for what’s right. You’re the perfect husband, and I have faith in you.” She skims her lips along mine before continuing, “We’ll make mistakes. We’ll wonder what the fuck we’re doing, but we’ll figure it out together.”
I nod, still a bit stunned. “A baby.” My fingertips brush along her stomach, and even though there’s not a noticeable difference, I can feel it.
“Are you okay?”
I still for several seconds, my fingers resting on her belly. All the self-doubt and negativity leach from my pores. She’s right. We’ll figure it out together. There’s nothing the two of us can’t do.
We will be the best damn parents ever.
She blinks, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye and trailing halfway down her cheek.
I brush it away and replace it with my lips.
“I’m perfect, Lucy. I’m absolutely fucking perfect.”