Page 103 of The Unplanned Wedding

“I like making you feel good.”

“And I like that you like making me feel good.” His features soften. “What else?”

"The orgasms." I chuckle. "Definitely, the orgasms."

"You like anal, huh?"

I slap at his chest. "I didn’t say that."

He shoots me a look that says, 'remember how you came earlier?'

"Okay, I don’t mind anal," I say reluctantly.

"Seemed to me, you enjoyed your first time, especially since you couldn’t stop screaming my name."

I flush a little. "No need to look so happy."

He smirks, then reaching his office, he shoulders the door open. He walks across the floor to the ensuite and steps inside. He places my feet on the floor in front of the sink and places my skirt on the counter. He picks up a washcloth and wets it, then presses it between my legs, angled toward my sore backside.

"Oh, that feels good."

He urges me onto the counter next to the sink; then coaxes me to pick up my legs and place my heels at the edge of the counter. I don’t feel self-conscious in exposing myself. Especially not when he flicks the washcloth into a bin, then reaches into a drawer and pulls out a tube of ointment. He proceeds to apply it around my slit and around my forbidden hole.

This time, I do feel embarrassed. "I can do it." I reach for the tube of ointment, but he brushes aside my hand.

He continues to smear the cooling ointment around my orifices, then caps it and drops it back in the drawer. He washes and dries his hands then turns to me. "How do you feel?"

"Good," I say with some bemusement. "A little tired, but good."

"Good." He bends and kisses my forehead, then pulls my panties from his pocket. I forgot about them, but my husband didn’t. My heart melts a little more. If he’d left them behind on the conference room floor and someone else had found them, I’d have been so embarrassed. But he wouldn’t let that happen.

He helps me down to the floor and goes down on one knee. I balance myself with one hand on his head and slide first one leg, then the other, into the underwear. He slides it up my thighs and smooths it over my hips. Then picks up the skirt and holds that out. I repeat the action, and he rises to his feet, tucking my blouse carefully inside the waistband of the skirt before pulling up the zipper. Then he slides the hook into place, once more smooths his palms over my cloth covered hips, and steps back. "All done."

"Thanks," I smile. "You’re good at this."

"You sound surprised?"

I survey his features. "I guess, I am. I didn’t expect you to be this…caring."

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "You’re mine, July. My wife. And I will always put your needs before mine. I will always take care of you. And when I push you out of your comfort zone, like I did earlier, I will make sure that I provide aftercare."

My heart turns to mush. I’m sure I have stars in my eyes. I love it when he talks with such possessiveness. I adore it when I am the recipient for his devotion. "I love you."

44

Knox

I love you too, wife. Of course, I love her. I know it. I’ve admitted it to myself. But saying it aloud? It feels like too much. Makes me feel like I’ve stripped off every defense between myself and the world and am standing naked before her.Am I ready to do that? Am I ready to confess my feelings for her?

My heart is willing, my soul has acquiesced, but my brain seems unable to form the three words she most wants to hear. Fear? Or perhaps, the fact that I’m getting used to how I feel for her? I know I need to tell her but when I clear my throat, I murmur, "As you wish."

Her gaze widens. “Did you quote fromThe Princess Bride?”

I pop a shoulder. “I‘m not a complete neanderthal, contrary to how I often come across.”

“Self-deprecating too.” She chuckles. “My, my, Knox Davenport, there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

And you’re all my eyes will ever want to see. Yours is the face I want to wake up to. Yours is the voice I want to hear every night when I go to sleep. You are my sun, themoon, and my stars. You are everything. The only thing that matters. It’s always been you. Only you.And again, because I’m unable to voice my thoughts, I content myself with reaching for her stilettos.

---