Page 406 of The Christmas Wife

The aftershocks convulse through him—or that might be me. At this moment, we feel like the same person. His muscles grow heavy, and when his body twitches, I realize he’s fallen asleep. I close my eyes and drift off.

Something wet licks between my legs. My nipples tighten. Sparks prickle along my skin. I moan, then gasp when a sucking sensation on my clit fans the sparks to flames. I crack open my eyes and look down long enough to glimpse his head between my thighs. Holy shit, the sight of his dark hair in contrast to my white skin, the intensity with which he’s focused on eating me out, the way he squeezes the backs of my thighs as he holds them apart, create the most carnal sight I've ever seen.

"Eddie," I moan.

It seems to spur him into action. He rises up on his knees then stretches out next to me. He turns me so my back is to his chest, pulls me in snug, then urges me to bend my knees. "What’re you doing?"

In response, he turns my head and kisses me. The taste of me and him intertwined together fans the flames that run through my veins. And when he nudges his cock into my slit, they become a forest fire. He slips inside me, filling me, stretching me in that pain-pleasure way. He brings his hand up to squeeze my nipple, and my pussy clenches.

"You’re so fucking perfect," he whispers against my mouth. Then rocks into me, then again. He presses tiny kisses up my cheek, then to that erogenous zone behind my ear. He ravishes the column of my neck and slides his hand down my stomach.

I flinch.

"What’s wrong."

"Nothing."

"Tell me," he orders.

"It’s—" I swallow. "I’ve never had a flat stomach. I’m not exactly thin."

"You’re perfect."

Tears prick my eyes. "Nice of you to say that, but a size sixteen is not everyone’s idea of beauty."

"It is mine." He leans back so he can look into my eyes. "You are my idea of beauty."

His cock twitches inside me as if to punctuate his words.

"And you call yourself emotionless."

"Except when I’m with you. You get under my skin—with your sweetness, your gentleness, your gorgeous curves, and your beautiful mouth."

"And you don’t like it."

"I don’t." He lowers his head until his mouth hovers over mine. "I love it."

I walk into Edward’s office and come to a stop. He’s standing at the window, his back to the room, his phone held to his ear. It’s snowing outside. A reminder that Christmas is less than a week away. It’s my favorite time of the year, but in the rush of events that have swept me in their wake over the last few weeks, I haven't been able to focus on it. I have to get him a gift; but he doesn’t believe in Christmas. Did he believe in it when he was a priest? Of course, he must have. Will he ever get over what had happened? I’d like to think last night is an indication that he might.

He came inside me twice, then woke me up, once again, before dawn when he slid inside me. He didn’t seem to be able to get enough of me.

He was so gentle that last time, so tender. He brought me to climax and it almost felt dreamlike, suspended as I was between that half-asleep, half-awake state. He came inside me again, and I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up when he brought me breakfast in bed. He’d already showered and dressed. He kissed my forehead and told me he was leaving for the office. He said I could take the day off, but I wasn’t able to stay away. I wanted to be near him.

Then, there's also the fact that he didn’t take off his clothes when he made love to me. And it was making love. He could call it by another name, but he wasn’t fooling me.

I take in his tall form, dressed, as always, in his three-piece suit. He was dressed in a similar one last night—when Sinclair helped him up the stairs and onto the bed, where he passed out, fully dressed.

I’ve never seen my husband naked. He turns and sees me. His lips curve in a smile, one that reaches his eyes. It lights up his features, making him look so much younger. Is this how he looked before her? Before he left the church? Before the incident?

He pockets his phone and stalks toward me. I’m aware of the answering smile which curves my lips.

He reaches me and takes in my features. "Sleep well?"

"Did you?"

"The best." His smile widens.

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