Page 62 of Marrying the Gardener
Mumbling, I sit up just enough to begin contemplating forcing the collection down my throat. “I won’t unless you want me to.”
“What?” she inquires.
I cuss. “N…nothing. Ignore me. Completely.Please.” I take the entire handful and a swig of the fluid, which tastes faintly of sodium and mysteriously of the idea of fruit.
No sooner have I swallowed does Crimson settle a plate of slightly charred toast before me. “Get a little something on your stomach.” Her hands breach the sanctity of my body without adequate warning, the heels of her palms meeting my shoulders as she seats herself on the bed next to me.
My heart tumbles. She grinds into my muscles, dragging relief up my neck.
An unbidden moan tugs itself from my chest as I angle my body to offer her more easy access. “Crimson…”
“Shh.” She kisses my cheek. “Toast.”
While I crunch, she tortures me with a head massage, encouraging me to lean back against her beautiful soft body once my food is done. Insistent, she keeps touching me while I suffer the ecstasy. I swear, tilting my head back and lifting my hand to her face. “You’re such a good wife…”
“That isalmostlike sayinggood girlto me, Kaleb.” Her expression hardens. “Refrain.”
A frail laugh leaves me. “Sorry. I appreciate this. That’s the language you prefer, isn’t it? I appreciate you.” I love you. I want you. I need you.
Her pinched lips ease. Her hands continue tormenting, digging into my muscles without mercy. “You do so much for me.”
“Nah. I don’t.”
“You do though. I know how hard this is on you. It’s put you to tears. I’m so sorry now it’s also brought you physical pain.” She kisses my forehead. “Drinking as much as my grandfather did couldn’t be good for his condition. Surely he’ll be on his way out now…” Something ashamed reflects in her eyes. “We just have to hope you’re in good enough standing by the time he finishes his final will.”
Screwhope. I’m not giving this up no matter what. If everything falls apart, I’m dropping to my knees with intentional guilt trips and pleading that Crimson let me save her and buy her freedom so she can be mine forever. I will actually die if I am never in a position again where she might work the knots out of my shoulders, slipping her touch down my arms and up my neck and into my bloodstream.
Whatever she’s doing right now is worth a million dollars, and I will spend the rest of my ages trying to convince her of that if it’s necessary.
Sighing—melting—against her, I murmur, “Marry me.”
A gentle smile curls her lips. “We are married.”
“Again.” Catching her hand, I cup her palm to my mouth. “I want a wedding. I want to write my own vows. I want to recite them to you in front of everyone I love.”
“I think, perhaps, I should meet everyone you love before we get carried away like that, don’t you?”
She has already. But I can’t say that, so I just let her fingers slip from my hand and return to my shoulders. Pleasure enshrouds me instantly, consuming my thoughts, battling the aches. I’ve nearly fallen asleep beneath the spell of her ministrations when she murmurs, “It’s Sunday.”
“Mm. It is.”
“Date day.”
My heart jumps. We have adate day? Adedicateddate day? Every week? Perpetually?
“Since today seems a little rough, I think we should wait for tomorrow, but is there anything you’d like to do, or should I plan it again?” Her gaze finds mine, then slips away. Her fingers move up into my hair once more, massaging my temples, lulling me back into this heaven of peace and satisfaction she creates.
I want to live here, always, with her. “I’m up for anything with you.”
“Anything at all? What about skydiving? Bungee jumping? Rock climbing up real mountains—without harnesses, unattended?”
“I never took you for a thrillseeker before.”
“Deep sea diving.”
“Awful long way to the sea. Are we making this a weeklong trip? More…hotel nights together, maybe?”
A flare of heat scorches her cheeks. “Not if the shark cage doesn’t hold.”
