always.
Still . . . it was early morning. They’d last made love the previous night, before midnight. Technically, it was another day, wasn’t it?
And if he didn’t have her right now he’d die.
There would be a point in their marriage when he’d cool off, he knew there would be—he just didn’t know when.
She was wearing one of those silky nightgowns he loved. When he slid his hand under the gown, he could feel the silk of her skin along his palms and the silk of the gown against the back of his hand.
He was spooned around her, a position both of them loved. He felt her smooth warmth all along his front, and even in sleep it felt like he could protect her. Surround her with his body, arms tucked around her middle. He felt like the dragon protecting the princess. During the day he had to let her go out into the world, of course. And he couldn’t be there all day by her side, armed and ready. Even he understood that. So all day as he went about his business, he had a low-level hum of worry about her. In the very beginning of their marriage he’d call a billion times a day just to hear her voice.
He’d almost lost her to a violent man from his own violent past, and the image of those last moments . . . the raging snowstorm, a soldier rising from cover with Caroline in his sights, finger tightening on the trigger . . . he shuddered at the memory and Caroline stirred.
She’d gently taught him that she was okay, that he didn’t have to worry about her and he didn’t have to call a hundred times a day. Violence in Summerville was rare. What were the odds of violent lightning striking twice?
Still, he insisted on giving her self-defense lessons, which she accepted and treated as gym classes. He was on a campaign to teach her firearms use but so far she’d refused with a shudder.
The imperative to keep Caroline safe while accepting that she had a life was a constant struggle.
But, by God, at night and in bed, that was when she was completely safe and all his.
His left hand cupped her thigh, relishing the silky smooth feel of her.
They liked to sleep with the curtains open. There was a full moon framed by the window, bathing the room with silvery light.
Caroline was so beautiful in daylight. Her colors came out in sunlight—the bright red-gold of her hair, that ivory skin with a faint blush underneath—but in moonlight she turned to marble perfection. Like now.
Jack watched, fascinated, as his hand slowly smoothed up her thigh, taking the silky nightgown with it. His hand was large and dark and rough, an erotic contrast to the pale smoothness of the skin of her thigh.
She was awake now, he could tell. And getting ready. The faint smell of roses drifted up. She didn’t use perfume but her soap and body lotions and shampoo were all rose-scented. When she was aroused her skin heated up, and it was like having sex in a rose garden.
His hand smoothed over her hip. Caroline gave up wearing panties to bed in the first week of their marriage, honeymooning in Hawaii. Looking back on it, Jack realized he overdid it. On their honeymoon it was as if he’d never had sex in his entire life and was making up for it now that he was married.
He’d had sex, of course. Tons of it. Just not sex with Caroline, which was something so different there should be another word for it. Caro-sex, maybe.
Looking back on that first week of their honeymoon in Hawaii, his main memories were of their eating and swimming and of his cock in her.
One night they’d fallen asleep together while he was still erect and inside her. He’d been wiped out from nonstop lovemaking. He’d just gone out like a light inside her and woke himself up when his body took over in the morning and started moving.
Now Caroline sighed when his hand smoothed over her belly, shifting her hips closer to his. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He put his lips to the soft skin behind her ear and breathed in, trying not to sniff her like a dog.
Still . . . it was early morning. They’d last made love the previous night, before midnight. Technically, it was another day, wasn’t it?
And if he didn’t have her right now he’d die.
There would be a point in their marriage when he’d cool off, he knew there would be—he just didn’t know when.
She was wearing one of those silky nightgowns he loved. When he slid his hand under the gown, he could feel the silk of her skin along his palms and the silk of the gown against the back of his hand.
He was spooned around her, a position both of them loved. He felt her smooth warmth all along his front, and even in sleep it felt like he could protect her. Surround her with his body, arms tucked around her middle. He felt like the dragon protecting the princess. During the day he had to let her go out into the world, of course. And he couldn’t be there all day by her side, armed and ready. Even he understood that. So all day as he went about his business, he had a low-level hum of worry about her. In the very beginning of their marriage he’d call a billion times a day just to hear her voice.
He’d almost lost her to a violent man from his own violent past, and the image of those last moments . . . the raging snowstorm, a soldier rising from cover with Caroline in his sights, finger tightening on the trigger . . . he shuddered at the memory and Caroline stirred.
She’d gently taught him that she was okay, that he didn’t have to worry about her and he didn’t have to call a hundred times a day. Violence in Summerville was rare. What were the odds of violent lightning striking twice?
Still, he insisted on giving her self-defense lessons, which she accepted and treated as gym classes. He was on a campaign to teach her firearms use but so far she’d refused with a shudder.
The imperative to keep Caroline safe while accepting that she had a life was a constant struggle.
But, by God, at night and in bed, that was when she was completely safe and all his.
His left hand cupped her thigh, relishing the silky smooth feel of her.
They liked to sleep with the curtains open. There was a full moon framed by the window, bathing the room with silvery light.
Caroline was so beautiful in daylight. Her colors came out in sunlight—the bright red-gold of her hair, that ivory skin with a faint blush underneath—but in moonlight she turned to marble perfection. Like now.
Jack watched, fascinated, as his hand slowly smoothed up her thigh, taking the silky nightgown with it. His hand was large and dark and rough, an erotic contrast to the pale smoothness of the skin of her thigh.
She was awake now, he could tell. And getting ready. The faint smell of roses drifted up. She didn’t use perfume but her soap and body lotions and shampoo were all rose-scented. When she was aroused her skin heated up, and it was like having sex in a rose garden.
His hand smoothed over her hip. Caroline gave up wearing panties to bed in the first week of their marriage, honeymooning in Hawaii. Looking back on it, Jack realized he overdid it. On their honeymoon it was as if he’d never had sex in his entire life and was making up for it now that he was married.
He’d had sex, of course. Tons of it. Just not sex with Caroline, which was something so different there should be another word for it. Caro-sex, maybe.
Looking back on that first week of their honeymoon in Hawaii, his main memories were of their eating and swimming and of his cock in her.
One night they’d fallen asleep together while he was still erect and inside her. He’d been wiped out from nonstop lovemaking. He’d just gone out like a light inside her and woke himself up when his body took over in the morning and started moving.
Now Caroline sighed when his hand smoothed over her belly, shifting her hips closer to his. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He put his lips to the soft skin behind her ear and breathed in, trying not to sniff her like a dog.
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