Page 7 of Wishing Stone

“I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I’m just voicing frustrations. I don’t want this to become a fight with us, which is why I think we should discuss it with Dr. Tumblin. I may get ornery about being cooped up from time to time, but I understand why you worry. In fact, this may be the one time your controlling nature has made me love you even more,” she added with a laugh. “Sounds crazy, right? At the end of the day, I really just want to focus on what’s ahead from now on.”

I tightened my hold on her shoulders and leaned in to bury my face in her hair. Breathing deep, I inhaled the scent. Her lush locks smelled like strawberries and cream, and so very Krystina. With her, I sometimes wondered if things were too good to be true, and questioned whether the life I currently lived could possibly be real.

“Thank you for getting it, angel—for understanding why I need you to do this for me. I’d go crazy if anything were to ever happen to you. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured, then pressed her body closer to me. “And speaking of your controlling nature, have I told you lately how much that crazy, protective side of you turns me on?”

The corners of my mouth twitched, amused yet wondering where she was going with this at the same time.

“No, you have not.”

Pulling away, she took the mug from my hand and placed it back on the table with hers. Then, grabbing the stereo remote, she changed the music from the upbeat Harry Connick Jr. to something slower. The melodious voice of Sarah McLachlan filtered through the speakers, singing a song about a winter’s night.

Turning to face me, she beckoned me with her finger. “Come here, husband.”

3

Alexander

Iraised an eyebrow at her sudden shift in mood.

“Giving me orders now, are you? You’re always trying to top from the bottom,” I teased with a little tsk.

However, I didn’t waste time following her command, as I rather enjoyed it when Krystina played the temptress. Leaning in toward her outstretched finger, I nipped the tip of it with my teeth before pushing up her sleeve and trailing open-mouthed kisses up her arm. I lingered at the crook of her elbow just long enough to make her breath hitch before sliding the sleeve back into place and moving on. Tracing the curve of her collarbone with my fingertip, I inched closer so that I could nibble the line of her jaw.

Finding the hem of her oversized sweater, I skimmed a hand up her waist to brush the side of her lace-covered breast. She rewarded me with another sharp intake of breath as I bit the edge of her earlobe. I felt her shiver, igniting smoldering cinders of lust into red hot flames. Sliding my hand back down and around her hip, I tightly gripped her jean-clad ass. I wanted nothing more than to rip the restrictive denim from her body.

“I’m so fucking hard for you. Take your clothes off. I want you naked,” I gruffly demanded.

A slow grin spread across my face when Krystina leaned back without hesitation and pulled her sweater over her head, revealing two perfectly shaped breasts cradled in a red lace bra. I loved it when she did as I asked without question. I couldn’t wait to pin her arms above her head and feel her tight, submissive body beneath mine.

She shifted to stand in front of me, and her eyes flashed with desire as she made a show of slowly unbuttoning her jeans. Her hot gaze slid over me. The glow of the crackling fire behind her cast an orange halo around her body, making her look like my very own fire goddess. I nearly groaned.

“A striptease for your devil. I like it, angel,” I murmured appreciatively. My gaze slid from her hands back up to her lush tits. The mere sight of them made me want to lose my mind, and I couldn’t wait to see them bounce as I rode her. I noticed they looked a little fuller than usual, but I didn’t dwell on the reason, knowing it was most likely due to the constant fluctuation of her hormones over the past few years. If anything, the added swell reminded me of everything she’d been through and the strength she had found to endure it. It only made me love her even more.

Reaching for her, I clasped my hands over hers, having this sudden need to undress her myself. I wanted to take my time and worship her—worship my wife, the woman I adored above all else.

Just as I began to slide down the zipper of her jeans, Krystina’s cell phone started to ring. I frowned, looking to the coffee table where the incessant ringing was coming from. She twisted to pick up the phone and read the caller ID.

“It’s Stone’s Hope Women’s Shelter,” Krystina said with a note of confusion. “It’s odd for them to call me this late. I should probably answer. It might be important.”

Leaning back against the sofa cushions, I huffed out a frustrated breath and mumbled, “Make it quick.”

Ignoring me, she slid her finger across the screen of the cell phone.

“Hello?” she answered.

I studied Krystina’s face as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. Her expression grew more and more concerned with each passing minute.

“What is it?” I whispered.

She held up a finger, signaling for me to be patient, then began speaking into the phone. “Claire, this isn’t your fault. There was no way for you to have known. Just calm down. You’ve filed the police report, and there’s nothing else to be done tonight. Let me think about this, and I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss possible next steps. Everything will be okay.”

I raised an eyebrow upon hearing the police were involved, but I couldn’t say I was surprised. When managing a women’s shelter, the police were often involved in things for various reasons.

About five minutes later, Krystina ended the call and turned to me.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

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