Page 37 of Midnight and Mine

I nod because she always says, “Let’s bring the outside in.” We have lots of plants inside and out. Once we found out we were having a baby, we went straight to a local greenhouse and bought more so she would be breathing the cleanest air possible.

“Hey, let’s get in the creek,” she says.

“Wynter, we can’t get your cast wet.”

She looks around and back at the Gator. “Do you have a trash bag in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, tie me up baby,” she squeals in excitement.

Tying her up is definitely on my to-do list.

I think back to our honeymoon. We were in a luxurious hut style resort, and the furnishings were the finest silk. Wynter took the scissors from my shaving kit and proceeded to cut strips of the satin sheets. It was the first time we experimented with being tied up. She was perched on the bed on her knees in some barely there lingerieholding out two purple strips of silk and said, “Tie me up baby.”

I tied her wrists together and placed her arms above her head while I sucked on the skin of her neck and collarbone. By the time I reached her breasts, she writhed beneath me. Her center dripping with need as I moved lower. I pushed her knees wide like a butterfly and ripped the lace strip. Wet and begging, I licked and suck between the apex of her legs until she screamed loud enough that the monkeys in the trees outside chittered and birds flocked from the trees.

“Scott?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” I get up and retrieve the garbage bag from the roll in the glove compartment.

“What were you thinking about?”

I slip her leg into the tall white kitchen bag and cinch it closed, tying it at her knee. She needs to feel normal. And this is something we did together all the time. We sit on a large smooth rock and put our feet into the creek.

She stares at her feet, then takes pictures of them. Like a magnet, my foot grazes hers. With every accidental brush of our feet, the pull is greater. She scoots her hand into mine, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. A shiver bolts up my spine, and uncertainty tangos in my stomach. I want and need her so badly, but I can’t compromise her health and healing.

“Wyn.” I tilt her chin to me. Words falter on my lips.

“I know it’s wrong, but I want to kiss you. Your lips are what I need to feel alive again. To feel normal.”

Our foreheads press against each other, and I adjust my body so that I’m facing her. My fingers skim her collarbone and settle on the nape of her neck. I peer into the windows of her soul, knowing she feels like we belong together, but she doesn’t remember it. My nose brushes against hers as our mouths are only millimeters apart. Her lips tremble slightly as I sweep my lips against hers, but then I stop.

“It’s not wrong.”

But it is when she thinks she’s married to Drake.

Chapter Sixteen

Wynter

My parents left on a grocery run, so when Scott and I return from riding around the farm, Vanessa is here waiting. And Scott can’t get out of here quickly enough. He’s feeling guilty for nearly kissing me. For brushing his lips against mine. God, I’m a terrible person.

Vanessa and I sit on the couch in the great room. I’m mentally warring with myself over whether I should tell her about the almost kiss with Scott. Will she think I’m a cheater?.

Tingles shot up my body as his lips grazed mine. His dark-brown eyes melted into mine. His lids were heavy with desire, and I’m struggling to put the pieces of this puzzle together. Maybe if I tell Vanessa, I can grab some clues from her body language.

“What do you want to watch?Judge Judy?General Hospital? News?” she asks.

“You should be at work. Don’t you have a bourbon empire to run?”

She throws her head back, laughing. Her golden curls are pulled back from her face in a clasp, with the rest hanging down. “Are you kidding? I don’t run the place; Dorothy does.”

“Who’s Dorothy?”

“My assistant. She’s been there for a hundred years. Remember, she’s the one who chased us out of the distillery when we were fifteen.”

I try to recall, closing my eyes, and I see myself and a guy standing on a bourbon barrel, kissing, but the memory of his face is blurred out.

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